Star Wars AU Episode I: Return of the Sith
by shelivesfree
Summary: In which Obi-wan must prove he's ready to become a Jedi Knight, Qui-Gon has an obsession with the so-called Chosen One, and Queen Amidala takes matters into her own hands when democracy moves too slowly. And then... there's a Sith Lord. TPM AU. A retake of the Prequels based on the fan theory by Belated Media. Let's just say I was inspired.
1. A Change of Course

**Title:** Star Wars AU Episode I: Return of the Sith

 **Author:** HermioneLunaPotter

 **Setting:** Prequels AU - based on the fan theory by Belated Media

 **Genre:** Adventure

 **Disclaimer:** Obviously I don't own any of this. I just have a solid (and slightly obsessive) interest in Star Wars.

* * *

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

 **Star Wars AU**

 **Episode I**

 **RETURN OF THE SITH**

 **Turmoil has engulfed the Galactic Republic. The taxation of trade routes to outlying star systems is in dispute.**

 **Hoping to resolve the matter with a blockade of deadly battleships, the greedy Trade Federation has stopped all shipping to the small planet of Naboo.**

 **While the Congress of the Republic endlessly debates this alarming chain of events, the Supreme Chancellor has secretly dispatched two Jedi Knights, the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy, to settle the conflict…**

* * *

 _ **Chapter 1: A Change of Course**_

 _Naboo System_

Two Jedi Knights stand by the window of their starship; a Padawan and his Master. The young apprentice stares wistfully out into the space beyond, contemplating the peace that currently exists in the Galactic Republic and how different it is compared to times long past. He is twenty-five; strong and ambitious, wanting more than anything to prove to his master that he is ready to become a fully trained Jedi Knight. But peacetime has made the Jedi Council complacent. No longer is the threat of the Sith looming over them, encouraging the admittance of many young, green padawans to become Jedi Knights far too early. Now there is peace, and peace leads to slow training and even slower promotions.

Jedi Padawan Obi-wan Kenobi does not wish for war, of course not, but he does wish to become a Jedi Knight. He is ready, he knows it, and though he is young, he is not as young as some Jedi Masters had been when they took the trials. If only his master was of the same opinion. Master Qui-Gon Jinn is wise, patient and a thoughtful teacher. Obi-wan is more than grateful to be his apprentice. But there is no denying how his master's inherent faith in The Force guides all his actions. _When The Force wills it, my young apprentice, then it shall be._ That is the answer Obi-wan receives whenever he raises the matter of his trials. To say it grates on his nerves would be an understatement.

A glance to the right shows his master is deep in thought, hands clasped behind his back, eyes closed, standing tall and stoic with his legs slightly apart. Meditating. Obi-wan wonders what he is thinking about, whether it is the mundane nature of the task at hand, or whether it is something else, something bigger. Before he gets a chance to ask, his master opens his eyes and sighs heavily.

"I sense something is troubling you, my young padawan," he says, voice soft and wise. His intuition, a Jedi's intuition, is rarely wrong. As useful as it is, it makes hiding his emotions from his master very difficult indeed.

Obi-wan turns his head to face his master. "No, Master," he replies with a small smile. "I was just reminiscing days long gone."

"It is never wise to dwell on the past, my young apprentice," Qui-Gon replies wisely.

"I know, Master. But sometimes I can't help but think things were better in the past."

At his words, his master's expression hardens, a serious air to it all. "There is peace throughout the galaxy, Obi-wan. This is a time for rejoicing. Surely, you do not regret peace?"

Sighing, Obi-wan's hand comes to rest on his lightsaber hung at his hip, feeling the smoothness of it against his fingertips. The only time he's had to wield it is during training sessions with his master, or fellow padawans. He was too young when the Lord of the Sith was defeated. He has never known war or what it is to battle with another, when the end result is a life lost.

"Of course not, Master. But look what peace has done to the Order." he proceeds cautiously, knowing it would not be wise to voice such opinions with other ears present. "We used to be Jedi Knights, fierce protectors of the galaxy, fighting for peace and justice. Now..." he heaves a heavy sigh. "Now we are sent to small planets as negotiators for the Republic."

The words fall on deaf ears, Obi-wan knows, but he can't help but feel at ease now he has voiced his concerns. Whether his master agrees with his views is unclear, for Qui-Gon merely stares off into the star-studded expanse of space, his eyes falling closed once again. "Do not wish for the past, my young padawan," he says after a time. "Those were dark times. Dark times indeed."

By order of Supreme Chancellor Valorum, Qui-Gon and Obi-wan are to journey to the planet of Naboo, to oversea trade negotiations between Naboo and the Trade Federation. There is speculation that the Trade Federation have severed all trade routes to and from Naboo, and, concerned for the welfare of the planet, the Chancellor chose to send two Jedi in secret to investigate these claims before they reached the Senate.

The job is mundane, Obi-wan knows this, but necessary all the same. As his master often says, _Jedi are peace keepers and sometimes, to keep the peace, the greatest weapon is diplomacy, not a lightsaber._ Obi-wan knows this as well. Yet he is no politician. Perhaps that is why the Chancellor sent Jedi to treat with them, not senators. Jedi will do whatever is right for the Republic. Senators have a habit of being selfish and thinking only of their own gain.

Despite his loathing for the task at hand, Obi-wan is grateful for the opportunity to leave the temple. The last time he left was when he had to construct his lightsaber. He yearns for adventure, and although part of him hopes that this mission will be a success and risk-free, there is a part of him, a somewhat dominant part of him, that wishes for action. _Something_. Where he has a chance to put his skills to good use and prove to his master, and himself, that he is ready to become a Jedi Knight.

The captain approaches them, Obi-wan can sense his presence before he makes himself announced. "Master Qui-Gon, there is a Trade Federation blockade up ahead, blocking the way to Theed."

Qui-Gon doesn't move from his position by the window, he simply closes his eyes and hums low in his throat. "This is troubling," he says softly.

"Master?" his padawan glances at him in concern, for he has not answered the captain yet and they are travelling dangerously close to the blockade.

"Shall we continue?" the captain asks again, a sense of distress and urgency in his tone. Obviously he is not used to Jedi and their calm demeanour.

Taking a deep breath, Qui-Gon shakes his head. "No," he says. The answer disappoints Obi-wan. His young, adventurous soul would give anything to charge into battle against the blockade, as the Jedi Knights of Old would have done. "Captain, are we in range?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Turn off all power sources except for the main generator and keep it on low. Including droids. Await my signal." He turns to his apprentice and beckons him to follow as he makes to leave, robes sweeping around his ankles. And Obi-wan follows, sparing a glance at the captain who looks just as confused as he feels, before catching up with his master, falling into step beside him.

"Uh, master? Where are we going?"

"To an escape pod, of course," is the reply, which is just as vague as the previous commands. When Obi-wan voices his confusion, Qui-Gon just smiles at him. "We cannot conduct trade negotiations if we are shot down by a blockade, my young apprentice. They will be expecting a Republic ship, not an escape pod. We will be able to sneak by the blockade undetected."

Obi-wan nods. It's a good plan. But he's troubled all the same. Why is there a blockade? Why didn't the Council know about this? How long has this been going on for?

"I don't know," Qui-Gon answers his thoughts. "That is what is troubling me the most." He taps the Com-Link on his arm, "Captain, can you hear me?"

" _Yes, sir."_

"Stay hidden. We should be finished our negotiations in a few days. Await communication from me. Do not engage by any means, understand?"

" _Yes, sir. As you wish, sir."_

They enter the escape pod and Qui-Gon seats himself in the pilot's seat, Obi-wan beside him. "Do you think the Council's foresight is failing, master? That Master Yoda is..." he breaks off, not wanting to confess the doubts in his mind. The Jedi Council has never been wrong before. Yet, for them to have missed something of this scale, it is cause for concern. Obi-wan can tell his master shares his worries, he can sense the uncertainty exuding from him.

"I don't know, my young apprentice. I don't know."

They launch the escape pod, sneaking by the blockade as planned, and land in a forest some five hundred clicks west of the Palace. The landing is rough and the escape pod is damaged, but both Obi-wan and his master survive the fall. He goes to exit first, taking his lightsaber in his hands, when his master holds out a hand to stop him, closing his eyes. "Use The Force, my young padawan. Sense your surroundings." Nodding, Obi-wan closes his eyes and reaches out with the Force, nudging his surroundings as his master has taught him. Nothing. Only nature.

Satisfied that they are alone, Qui-Gon gestures for his apprentice to exit the escape pod, following closely on his heels. The forest around them is dense, the ground covered with fallen, trampled leaves, and moss and wet, damp dirt. There is an earthy smell to it, fresh and wet and lush, and Obi-wan can sense there is a water source nearby. Tendrils of soft sunlight peer through the gaps in the foliage overhead, dancing across the forest floor, which looks as though it has been well traveled. The earth is more compacted a few feet where he stands, forming a sort of makeshift path and he reaches out with The Force again, searching for lifeforms. He doesn't find any.

"Where are we?" he asks his master. It hardly seems like an inhabited place. Yet there is the distinct _feeling_ that something is out there, or at least, used to be.

"A long way from the Palace," Qui-Gon answers, a wry smile on his face. "Not to worry, my young apprentice, we will reach our destination soon. Can you sense that?" he tilts his head, suddenly, as though searching for a sound. "There is something close by."

Once again, Obi-wan reaches out with the Force, and notices a definite _something_ that he didn't notice before. It is not human, yet it is not animal. He is not quite sure what it is, but his hand grips his lightsaber beneath his robes in precaution. The _something_ , it turns out, is a native Gungan, so Obi-wan recalls from his studies. The creature is humanoid with long ears, leathery skin of mottled burgundy, and long legs. Round eyes sit atop stalks above the head and the mouth is almost bill-shaped, giving the creature a ridiculous comical appearance. It stares are the two Jedi in mild curiosity, eyes unnaturally wide.

Completely unarmed, it is no threat to the Jedi and so Obi-wan removes his hand from his lightsaber, glancing at his master.

"Whosa yousa?" the creature demands in a high-pitched, fractured tongue. Obi-wan is surprised that it can speak; Gungans are known as a very primitive species back at the temple.

It is Qui-Gon who introduces them to the Gungan, speaking slowly and patiently as he would to a small child. "Greetings, Gungan, we are Jedi. We mean you no harm."

The Gungan nodded his head. "Jedi. Meesa know of Jedi-i. Meesa Jar Jar Binks." He walks forward, standing two heads taller than Obi-wan and points at them with one of his four fingers. "Why yousa here?"

"We need to get to the Palace," Qui-Gon explains patiently. Obi-wan is grateful that his master is handling the conversation, he thinks they might have more a chance without the help of the Gungan, for his voice is loud and he attracts attention. If there is indeed an enemy nearby, no doubt they can hear this interaction. He keeps his hand braced on his lightsaber just in case.

"Da Palacesy?" Jar Jar Binks squeaks, his round eyes growing larger atop his head. "Why yousa want to go day? It isa dangerous, yessa."

 _Dangerous_? Obi-wan frowns and looks to his master, noticing the same troubled expression upon his face. This mission is slowly becoming more and more confusing. What else does the Jedi Council not know?

"What kind of danger?" Qui-Gon asks, though Obi-wan can sense the uncertainty in his voice. He can feel it too, the disturbance in the force.

The Gungan nods his head frantically, looking rather comical as he waves his arms around and his ears and eyes flap along with his movements. "Meesa sees it," he insists, voice raising two octaves in his fear. "Da Naboo, yessa, day are starving, oh yessa. Meesa sees. Meesa hides in da water so day no find meesa. Itsa not safe."

The Jedi exchange worried glances, communicating without words. If there is a seige on the Palace, then the Senate must be told. But, before action can take place, they need more knowledge. And some form of transportation. If they are to free the Queen and take her back to Coruscant, they will need to act immediately before things become more dire. Walking will simply not do. Nodding in agreement, the Jedi turn back to the distressed Gungan.

"Thank you, Jar Jar Binks, your intel has been most useful," Qui-Gon begins, and Obi-wan smirks at the response of the Gungan, his chest puffing out and his head raised higher in pride at the praise. It is a clever move, butter up the Gungan before asking a favour.

"Jar Jar isa happy to help da Jedi-i," he squeaks. "Meesa is wanting to help da Naboo, yessa."

"Actually, there is a way you can help even more," Qui-Gon explains. The Gungan cocks his head to the side, his beak snapping closed and Obi-wan is grateful for the silence. He hopes they can rid of the Gungan soon, because he doesn't know how long he can stand listening to his high-pitched, broken speech. "We are in need of transport. See, our ship," he gestures to the damaged escape pod, "is damaged and we have no way of going to the aid of the Naboo."

"Ah, yessa," the Gungan claps his hands together moronically and jumps up and down on alternate legs, springing high into the air. "Meesa can help! Meesa can take yousa to my master, oh yessa. Meesa find transport for da Jedi-i!"

Without further ado, he bounds off, loping through the forest and the two Jedi fall in behind him, hurrying to keep up with his steps. Obi-wan sighs. Conflict is what he wished for, and now conflict has arisen and he isn't quite sure he wants it anymore.

* * *

 _Royal Palace, Theed_

Queen Amidala sits at the end of the long, mahogany table, staring down at her courtiers whilst they bicker and argue about taking action against the Trade Federation. She remains impassive, listening to each of their arguments in turn, politely acknowledging them but showing preference for neither. Two weeks this blockade has gone on, and still there is no solution. Many of her courtiers believe they should fight back, assemble all Nubian forces and strike out against the Trade Federation. But, as always, there are many who believe sitting idle and waiting is the best course of action.

The Trade Federation are responsible for the opening and closing of trade routes in and out of the Naboo system. Without them, trade would cease and many of her people would starve. Amidala knows this. She knows how important trade is to Naboo, and yet, she can't help but agree that action needs to take place. Not the mercenary kind, oh no, but Queen Amidala is a firm believer in democracy, and it is this belief that drives her to make the following statement.

"The Senate must be informed," she remarks loudly, over the top of her bickering courtiers. They fall silent the moment the words fall from her lips, all eyes gazing at her. She maintains her diplomatic facade, something she has perfected over her short time as Queen.

"Your Majesty," Governor Sio Bibble addresses her, rising from his seat to her left. "All communications to Coruscant have been blocked by the Trade Federation."

"Aye," Minister Cyan Whent nods in agreement. "We have no way of contacting the Senate, your Highness. And we cannot leave Naboo. The blockade prevents any ship from entering or leaving our system."

Amidala pauses. This she already knows. Before the Trade Federation launched their blockade, she had managed to contact Supreme Chancellor Velorum, seeking help in order to reopen negotiations diplomatically. Unbeknownst to the Senate, the Chancellor dispatched two Jedi Knights to oversee such negotiations. However, they should have arrived by now. The presence of Jedi will surely intimidate Viceroy Nute Gunray, or at least, abate him enough to begin negotiations.

"I hear your concerns, but I have already made contact with the Senate, before the invasion took form. Two Jedi are expected to arrive any day now, to assist me when I reopen trade negotiations."

The uproar caused by her words is one that she was prepared for. The involvement of Jedi, means the situation is more dire than originally forethought. Jedi are peacekeepers, yet they are acclaimed more for their prowess with their weapon of choice - _the lightsaber_ \- than their diplomacy. Jedi are not politicians. They will act in the way they perceive will cause the least casualties to the citizens of Naboo - which may or may not be agreeable to her court. Yet, Amidala knows there is no other way. If she is to reopen negotiations with the Trade Federation, she needs a show of force by her side, and the presence of two Jedi will surely make an impressive sight.

"You cannot reopen negotiations," Marissa Zanduli exclaims. "Your Majesty. The Viceroy will not agree to any terms unless they involve him taking occupation over Naboo."

Amidala nods her head towards the speaker, before standing up. Though short in statue, she exudes a calming presence over her court. She has served her people well during her time as Queen. Only fourteen, yet she commands all the attention and respect of a royal three times her age. "The only way to settle this once and for all is with diplomacy. If we take action against the Trade Federation, we may cause war. The Galactic Republic has been in an era of peace for many years. I will not jeopardize that peace by issuing an attack. Diplomacy will reign supreme."

There is a round of applause and she bows her head, dismissing her court for the day. As they file out of the room, muttering amongst themselves, a handmaiden approaches her side and asks if she wishes to retire to her chambers. With a nod of her head, Amidala glides out of the room, her gown swishing around her ankles elegantly, two handmaidens trailing behind her and her head of security, Quarsh Penaka flanking her left side.

As she reaches her chambers, she bids Penaka goodbye and enters with her handmaidens, who swiftly guide her over to her dresser. Amidala glances over her reflection, noting how different she looks when done up in her royal makeup as befit a Queen of Naboo. Her face is pale white, her lips painted blood red and her hair done up in an elegant, regal fashion. She adores being Queen; nothing is more important to her than her people and serving her home planet well. It is rare for a monarch to be so young and she feels a great pride in being elected as Queen at such a tender age. And yet, despite that, she often feels a stranger under the royal garb. At times she forgets that she is Padmé Naberrie, a young teenage girl with high political aspirations and strong morals. She has not seen her family in months; she misses the Lake Country where she grew up, where she would play in the water with her sister and swim out to all the islands. Of course, she would not give up her position for anything - she could not let her people down. But, she misses her childhood all the same.

"Are you alright, milady?" her handmaiden, Sabé, asks her as she works on her hair until her chestnut curls cascade down her shoulders. They look alike, so it makes sense that Penaka wishes Amidala to use Sabé as a decoy when negotiating with Viceroy Gunray. Amidala protested at first, insistent that she was more than capable of handling herself in dangerous situations, but her head of security was firm. _You are too important to your people to die, Your Majesty_ , he had told her in his gruff voice and eventually, she had conceded to the plan.

"Yes, Sabé," she responds wistfully, as her handmaiden brushes out her hair gently. "I'm just thinking." The girl nods, remaining silent and continues to brush her hair. "Are you nervous?" she probes her.

"No, milady," Sabé responds immediately, as though she is trained to answer so quickly. As a royal handmaiden, it is expected to react as such, and Amidala pays close attention to her handmaiden's mannerisms. She will have to adopt them when they trade places. "Your Highness has asked this of me and I will not disappoint you."

Amidala smiles at her formality. "I have much faith in you, Sabé. Sometimes, I believe you would be an even greater Queen than I am."

The girl blushes furiously at the praise, setting the brush on the table and taking to wiping Amidala's face clean of her royal makeup. "Your Highness is too kind. There has never been a greater Queen than you, milady."

The compliment made her uncomfortable. Amidala did not want to be a great ruler. She merely wanted to be a great servant to her people. To lead was to serve, and she hoped she did just that.

Once her face is clean, she is stripped out of her gown and into casual, loose pants and a flowy blouse that is cut to expose her midriff, with billowing sleeves. Her hair is pulled back behind her hair, separating into three braids decorated with different coloured bands. Light, canvas shoes are on her feet. She looks the part of a handmaiden now, rather than a Queen. And she can't deny that the garb is far more comfortable. Without the makeup, she feels somewhat naked, but she supposes it's for the best.

Sabé will make a good decoy, she thinks to herself as she stands out on her balcony, looking out over her home planet. It is peaceful below, and she feels a certain pride in her people, for going about their daily lives as though there isn't a trade blockade looming above them, stopping shipment in and out of Naboo.

"Milady, come away from the window. It's not safe."

Amidala turns to see Sabé standing before her, looking every part the Queen and smiles fondly at her handmaiden. "I should be the one calling you 'milady'", she says good-naturedly. "Don't fear, Sabé. Everywhere is safe for a handmaiden."

* * *

 _Otoh Gunga_

"Have you treated with Gungans before, Master?" Obi-wan asks as they wait patiently in front of the Gungan King, Rugor Nass, as he spoke to Jar Jar Binks in the native tongue of Gunganish.

"Once," Qui-Gon replies. "When I accompanied Master Yoda here to collect a Force sensitive child." The comment surprises Obi-wan. He doesn't think Gungan's are intelligent en"ough to be Force sensitive. With a start, a sudden image of the moronic Jar Jar Binks wielding a lightsaber and squeaking, "meesa Jedi," appears before his eyes and he blinks frantically in desperation to rid the frightening image. Beside him, his master chuckles under his breath, obviously having seen what his apprentice had imagined. "They are not easy beings to treat with, my young apprentice," he continues. "They are strongly prejudiced against those of higher intelligence. They may not help us."

The Gungan King is even more comical in appearance than Jar Jar Binks. With a round head, even rounded, plump belly and green skin, he sits high on his throne, looking every part the leader. He is an Ankura Gungan, the fatter, squatter subspecies, or so Qui-Gon explains as they wait for him to address them. Presently, he seems to be scolding the younger Jar Jar. By the tone of his voice alone, Obi-wan can tell that it is not a pleasant conversation.

As Gungans are amphibious, their main residence, Otoh Gunga, resides under a lake in Naboo. The two Jedi were required to wear special breathing masks on their descent towards the Gungan capital, but Obi-wan would be glad to be above ground again. Though a confident swimmer, he feels more comfortable when he can breath oxygen freely.

"Jedi-i," the Gungan King booms in his low, frog-like voice. His beady, orange eyes are trained on them and he beckons them forward with a four-fingered hand. They comply, as Jar Jar slinks off into the shadows, quietly humble. "Jar Jar isa bad Gungan for bringing yousa here."

Qui-Gon bows low in front of the King and Obi-wan follows suit, bending his knee and keeping his head facing the floor. It will not do to insult the King when they desperately need his help. "Your Majesty," his master begins grandly, still on his knees. "I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. This is my Padawan Obi-wan Kenobi. We come in peace, seeking assistance."

The King squints down at the Jedi, clasping his hands together and tapping his fingers. "Meesa knows why yousa come here."

Rising, Qui-Gon steps forward, gesturing for Obi-wan to remain where he is with a small hand gesture. It is one he has seen many times, a gesture that means, _let me do the talking, my young apprentice._ "Our ship is damaged. We are on our way to Theed and are in need of transportation, if Your Majesty would be so gracious."

Clicking his tongue, the King hums gruffly. "Yousa want to help da Naboo. Weesa no liked da Naboo. Da Naboo tink day so smarty, day tink day brains so big."

A hum of agreement erupts from the surrounding Gungans and Obi-wan watches the reactions with mild interest. If so many Gungans are enemies of the Naboo, why did Jar Jar Binks bring them here? He ponders the thought for a moment but decides to let it go, seeing as Jar Jar is a simpleton and probably doesn't know any better.

"The Queen requested our assistance, Your Majesty. We are required to assist her with trade negotiations."

Rugor Nass merely laughs, a great booming laugh, and clicks his tongue again. "Weesa no care for trade negotiations," he exclaims. "Weesa live here wiz no trade. Weesa live in peacey."

"Please, Your Majesty," Qui-Gon pleads, though not embarrassingly so. "There is a blockade stopping supply routes in and out of the Naboo. If we do not aid the Queen, the people will starve."

The King ponders his words for a moment, a hand coming up to stroke his chin as he clicks his tongue. "Why shoulda weesa care if day starve, Jedi-i?" he asks.

 _Good point,_ Obi-wan thinks to himself. If anything, the Gungans profit from the blockade. Starving citzens equates to less citizens, and less citizens equates to more Gungan liberty. Food would be more plentiful, competition for land would cease. For the sake of the Nubians, Obi-wan hopes that his master's persuasive skills are enough to sway the stubborn King.

"If the Trade Federation occupy Naboo," Qui-Gon explains calmly, "their presence will not only affect the Naboo, but you as well. They will confiscate your lands, take your children, turn your women into slaves." He is laying it on heavily, but it seems to have the desired reaction. Many of the Gungans exchange mortified glances with each other and there is a buzz of quiet chatter amongst them. Yet, the King remains impassive. "Nubian or Gungan, it will not matter to the Trade Federation. _This_ is why the Queen was reopen negotiations. _This_ is why we must assist her. For her people, and yours."

The speech is impressive and the impact is strong amongst the Gungans. The King sits in his throne, silent and stoic as he absorbs the weight of the proclamation laid before him. "Da Naboo has done nuffing for us. Day has fought wiz us in da past. Why are weesa helping dem?"

Qui-Gon nods passively. "The Queen has no quarrel with the Gungans. I can assure you of that. I am sure, once this threat of invasion has passed, she would be willing to discuss a peace treaty with Your Majesty, if you are willing." Obi-wan almost laughs at the boldness of his master. Hopefully, the Naboo Queen agrees to such vicarious terms. If not, they could be leading the Naboo unknowingly into civil war.

That seemed to spark the King's interest. His beady eyes widened and he turned to one of his council members, muttering in Gunganish so that neither Jedi could understand what was being said. After consulting with several other members of the high council, The King turns back to the Jedi and clicks his tongue. "Very well, Jedi-i. Weesa is giving yousa transport to Theed. But," he holds up a finger, glaring down at both of them. "Weesa need to see dis Queeney. To talk peacey."

Nodding his head graciously, Qui-Gon thanks and praises the generocity of the King as he directs them towards a ship. They board and are sent off with a traditional Gungan farewell. Once they are out of sight, Qui-Gon grins at his apprentice.

"As I always say, my young padawan, the most important weapon a Jedi can wield is not his lightsaber, but his powers of diplomacy."

Obi-wan shakes his head. "I hope you are right about the Queen, Master. If she does not agree to your terms..."

"Then she will be leading her people into a civil war," he explains. "Have faith, my young padawan. If she is a great a Queen as they say, she will agree to them."

The ship breaks the surface of the water and they fly off into the sky, heading for the Palace.

* * *

 _ **A/N: So, I thought I'd give this a try. I know it's been done to death, but I was inspired and wanted to see what I could do with the characters. It will mainly be told from Obi-wan's and Amidala's perspectives, because they are the two most interesting characters, but occasionally there will be a Sidious, Maul, Gunray, Qui-Gon or Anakin perspective too.**_

 _ **As I said at the beginning, I don't own this or the idea. I just wanted to see what I could do with it. I won't be updating this very regularly, because I've got my own modern AU Anidala fic currently underway (check out The Boy Next Door and the sequel The Girl From Harvard - gosh, I'm pathetic with the whole self-promotion thing but oh well), but I will try not to leave updates months at a time. A few weeks, maybe, but not months (hopefully) - don't hold me to this.**_

 _ **Let me know what you think :) xx**_


	2. A Daring Escape

**Title:** Star Wars AU Episode I: Return of the Sith

 **Author:** HermioneLunaPotter

 **Setting:** Prequels AU - based on the fan theory by Belated Media

 **Genre:** Adventure

 **Disclaimer:** Obviously I don't own any of this. I just have a solid (and slightly obsessive) interest in Star Wars.

* * *

 _ **Chapter 2: A Daring Escape**_

 _The_ Saak'ak _, Naboo System_

"My Lord, we have held off the Republic ambassadors, as you instructed," Viceroy Nute Gunray says, bowing low and respectfully in front the hologram.

"Very good," the hooded figure responds, voice rough and crackling with power.

The Neimoidian bows his head again, infinitely submissive before the nefarious Sith Lord. "They are remaining out of range."

The Sith clasps his hands together. "Destroy them. Every single one of them."

"My Lord?" Despite being a greedy man, and almost cruel in some aspects, Gunray does not want to do anything that could provoke an attack from the Republic. Destroying a Republic ship is an act of treason.

Lord Sidious is unwavering. "Destroy them."

Nodding his head, Gunray bows lowly. "As you wish, my Lord. And what of the Naboo?"

"Begin the invasion." The hologram cuts out.

Gunray stares out the window of the _Saak'ak_ , where the small planet of Naboo looms ahead. The blockade has been in place for several weeks, cutting off trade routes in and out of the planet. Outer rim trade taxation has outraged the Trade Federation, of course it has, but choosing Naboo as the target for revenge is under instruction from Darth Sidious. A greedy man, Gunray opted into an alliance with the Sith Lord in the hopes of mutual benefits, primarily power. Only now, is he realising that perhaps that is a mistake.

The last Sith was eradicated many years ago, and the Galactic Republic has seen an era of peace ever since. The appearance of a new Sith Lord, Darth Sidious, had not been taken seriously by Gunray. He had not believed it at first. Until he saw the power for his own eyes. Such power. It is vastly more powerful than that of the Jedi.

Still, Gunray is skeptical. The legality of this invasion is questionable, and despite the affirmation from the Sith Lord that he will 'make it legal', uncertainty still rests in the back of his mind. By invading Naboo, he is committing an act of treason not granted permission from the Galactic Senate. Lieutenant Rune Haako has already expressed his concerns about the invasion, claiming that Lord Sidious is not to be trusted, but it is far too late to turn against him now. Gunray knows this. If the Sith wants the Trade Federation to invade and gain occupation over Naboo, then so be it.

"Viceroy," Lieutenant Haako interrupts his thoughts, standing tentatively in the doorway. "What are we to do with the Republic ship?"

Sighing, Gunray turns to his second-in-command, a fellow Neimoidian and responds curtly, "send out our best strike team. We must destroy the ship."

Clearly, the orders surprise Haako, but Gunray cares not about his lieutenant's worries. He is far too cowardly to be a advisory. He prefers to negotiate rather than take action. "Are not captives a better solution, sir? We would be able to bargain with the Senate, come to a diplomatic solution."

"Such bold words, Lieutenant," Gunray sneers. "On whose authority do you presume to command me?"

Haako's red eyes grow wide and he opens his mouth, gaping stupidly like some sort of aquatic creature exposed to the surface. "N-none, sir," he stammers. "I-I was just suggesting - "

Gunray turns his back on his lieutenant, his focus, instead, trained on the Republic ship sitting idly out of range. "I take my orders from Lord Sidious. And you take your orders from me. If you have a problem, perhaps you should bring it up with him."

Haako gasps and Gunray smiles wryly. His lieutenant fears the Sith Lord, as all aboard the _Saak'ak_ do, even Gunray himself. "N-no sir. I will carry out your orders."

"Good. I want those Republic ambassadors destroyed."

The Lieutenant bows lowly, "as you wish, sir," then turns on his heel and leaves. Gunray sighs heavily. The incompetence of some of his men is concerning. At times, he is convinced that he would be better off alone.

The strike team, a fleet of starfighters commanded by battle droids, is sent out towards the Republic ship. They attack from all sides, and the target, being a vessel without weapons, falls easily and swiftly. It is not long before the leading starfighter docks and the droids board the vessel. Gunray watches from the safety of his ship, a pleased smile on his face. All is going as planned.

His Comm-Link blinks on his wrist and Gunray engages, as a miniature hologram of the commanding battle-droid appears before him. "Sir," it says in it's monotonous, electronic voice. "There are no Republic ambassadors on this ship."

Gunray frowns at the stupidity of the droids. Although adept fighters, especially when in large numbers, their programming is limited strictly to following orders. They possess neither common sense nor initiative. "Impossible," he says. "Search everywhere. They must be hiding."

"Roger, roger." No less than five minutes later, the droid reappears again. "Sir. There are no Republic ambassadors on this ship."

The Viceroy's face contorts in rage. That's not possible. There has to be some mistake. "What?" he roars, incredulous. "Did you search everywhere?"

"Yes, sir," the droid nods it's oblong head. "There's only a captain here, sir. And an escape pod seems to be missing."

An escape pod? It all makes sense now. Gunray smiles wryly, clasping his hands together. Of course, the ambassadors would have a plan. Supreme Chancellor Velorum would not send just any idiotic Senate representatives to treat with him. They would be cunning and quick-witted.

"Sir?" the droid repeats. "What should we do with the captain, sir?"

"Kill him and destroy the ship," the Neimoidian instructs.

"Roger, roger."

The transmission cuts out and Gunray laughs cruelly. _It seems our ambassadors have made it past our blockade,_ he thinks to himself, watching with mild interest as the Republic ship is blown apart, scattering pieces of debris far out into space until it is almost unrecognisable. He is not worried, not at all, because when all is said and done, all evidence of any Republic interference will be eradicated and the Senate will never know. _Naboo will soon be mine._

"The target has been destroyed, Viceroy," Haako reappears, nodding his head.

Gunray turns to him and smiles. "Good. Lord Sidious will be most pleased. Are the transmission channels still jammed?"

The lieutenant nods. "Yes, sir."

"Open them. I wish to speak with the Queen." When Haako remains where he is, Gunray sighs at the lack of compliance. He has certainly made a poor choice for his advisory. "Before I begin the invasion, I will give the Queen one last chance to surrender. Now, open those transmission channels, Lieutenant."

"As you wish, Viceroy."

Though inherently greedy, Nute Gunray is no Sith Lord. If he can gain occupancy over Naboo quietly, without risking the lives of his own troops in a full scale invasion, and merely receive compliance through surrender, then not only has he fulfilled Sidious' wishes, but he has also given the Senate no reason to think ill of the Trade Federation. The Queen is important. She must sign a treaty legalising the Trade Federation's occupancy of her planet. It is the key to everything.

Once the transmission channels are back online, he takes a seat and contacts the Queen. It is several minutes before she receives the transmission and stares blankly up at him, her face void of any emotion.

"Queen Amidala," Gunray greets her with exaggerated pompousness. "It is always a pleasure."

The Queen is not impressed. "I'm afraid I cannot say the same, Viceroy," she says icily. "Your blockade has not been received well by my people, or myself. I insist that you remove it immediately."

"Come now, Your Majesty," he simpers in mock courtesy. He cares little for this child queen. "Let us speak amiably to one another, shall we? You do not want to upset me."

It seems the dislike is mutual, for the Queen persists in her cold tone. "Naboo has no quarrel with the Trade Federation. Your presence here is unjustified."

Gunray simply smiles and shakes his head. "The Trade Federation has no quarrel with the Republic, and yet we are being heavily taxed. _That_ is what is unjustified."

"But why target Naboo?" the Queen asks. "We are a peaceful people. Is not the Senate the cause of your injustice?"

Clicking his tongue, he barks a laugh. "Actions speak louder than words, Your Majesty. These are desperate times."

"Democracy should always prevail," she argues, and Gunray is quite impressed by how bold she is for a little girl. There is a strength in her that shines through. Perhaps that is why she was elected as monarch. She is certainly braver than his own cowardly lieutenant. "Why not reopen negotiations, Viceroy? Together, I'm sure we could come up with a diplomatic solution that benefits both my planet and the Trade Federation."

"My dear Queen Amidala," he says with a false air of misery, "I'm afraid it is far too late for that." Her naivety is pitiful.

"What do you hope to gain, Viceroy?" Her tone is less cold than before and there is an almost pleading edge to it. Silly girl. If she thinks she can beg her way out of this, then she is sadly mistaken. "There must be something..."

This time, Gunray does laugh, rather cruelly. "Why, Your Majesty, I hope to gain Naboo."

Her expression hardens into one of fierce determination and she purses her blood red lips. "I will not let you. You will never take Naboo. Not in the eyes of the Senate."

"Ah, but I will when you sign a treaty, handing the occupancy of Naboo over to the Trade Federation.

"What makes you think I would ever sign such a treaty, Viceroy?" she scowls. She has a temper, underneath her cool, political facade and that pleases Gunray. It is said that Queen Amidala is a selfless ruler, who would do anything for her people. He wishes to exploit that weakness.

"This is your last chance to accept my offer, Queen Amidala. Sign the treaty, or subject your people to a full scale invasion."

"Never."

"How interesting," he taunts her. "I thought you were the Queen of the people, Amidala. But, it seems you are just like the rest of the Senate. Putting your own lust for power above the needs of your people."

His comment does not have the desired affect, however, for the Queen simply smiles, a small, pleased smile. "We will resist you, Viceroy," she vows. "I will not allow my people to become hostages so you can bargain with the Republic."

Gunray frowns. He had not anticipated this. There is only one solution left. "I take it you are rejecting my offer?"

"Yes," she nods her head. "As always, Viceroy, it's a pleasure."

The transmission cuts out and he curses the Queen. "You leave me no choice, Queen Amidala," he mutters under his breath. "Lieutenant?"

Haako responds immediately, approaching him cautiously. "Sir?"

Gunray stares off into the distance, vaguely aware of his surroundings, fuming with anger. "Close communication channels. The Naboo do not have enough forces to hold off our attack for long. I do not want them contacting reinforcements."

"Yes, sir."

Tapping his Comm-Link, he contacts the lead battle-droid. "Commence the invasion."

* * *

 _Royal Palace, Theed_

Soon, the Naboo Capital of Theed comes into view as the Gungan ship breaks through the foliage and into the atmosphere. It is a large city, though comparatively smaller than Coruscant, with sandstone buildings rising up in cylindrical, dome-like structures, covered by rounded roofs of pale green. A river snakes its way around the city, occasionally cutting under a bridge before weaving back around again. The only city Obi-wan has witnessed is Coruscant, which is a bustling hub of noise and activity at all hours of the day and night, home to various species and droids alike. Theed seems peaceful from a distance; a mellow, gentler city. He believes he will like it here.

On the edge of a cliff lies the Royal Palace, towering elegantly above the rest of the city, it's architecture the same as the buildings that surround it. Obi-wan points it out to his master, who nods in recognition. As they draw closer, Qui-Gon instructs his padawan to communicate with the Palace and let them know of their arrival. Nodding, Obi-wan searches the operations board blindly, wishing there is an Astromech on board because they are a lot better at doing such things. The Gungan vessel, though appreciated, is slow, primitive and lumbering, much to Obi-wan's irritation. He tries contacting the Naboo, requesting permission to land, but there is no answer. Confused, he tries again, but the result is the same. When he voices this to his master in annoyed tones, grumbling about how the universe is against them today, Qui-Gon merely sighs at his frustration.

"Perhaps communication channels have been jammed by the blockade?" he suggests calmly.

"Great," Obi-wan scowls. "Just what we need."

"It is the will of the Force, my young padawan," Qui-Gon tells him wisely. "Everything happens for a reason."

Obi-wan merely sinks lower in his chair, a sullen look on his face. "Let's just hope the Naboo aren't in the mood for shooting down unknown ships."

Qui-Gon is amused by his apprentice's sullen attitude, but as they approach the Palace, his calm demeanour leaves him. Suddenly, their ship is hit, and Obi-wan grunts as they are knocked to the side, gripping his chair roughly so he doesn't go flying out of his seat. Open fire begins to rain down on them and Obi-wan simply sits by in concern as his master attempts to evade the attack. He mutters a sullen _I told you,_ to his master, before moving around the ship to find the guns.

"No, my young apprentice," Qui-Gon instructs as he narrowly misses yet another shot, swerving so violently that Obi-wan almost falls to the ground. "Do not shoot back. We are not the enemy."

Sighing, Obi-wan sits back beside his master. "They will kill us," he panics. How is his master calm in a time like this? It is almost as though he expected something like this to happen. "Master, we're not going to be able to land."

Shaking his head at his padawan, Qui-Gon merely sighs. "Have faith, my young padawan. Have faith in the Force."

Obi-wan knows better than to question a Jedi Master, but at this stage, he feels as though they are committing suicide. The Naboo defence is aggressive, like they are expecting a larger attack. There are tanks and soldiers everywhere, cannons and blasters, and even a small fleet of starfighters. Obi-wan grimaces and points them out to his master.

"We are not turning around, Obi-wan," Qui-Gon says firmly, successfully navigating his way through the defences. "We must complete our mission. Try to make contact again."

There are sirens sounding outside, loud, echoing through the small, Gungan ship, causing the seats to vibrate. This defense is impressive, but much too large for one small enemy vessel. Again, this makes Obi-wan anxious. The Naboo are a peaceful people; they would not target one lone ship with such a show of force.

Obi-wan tries the communicator again. It buzzes and crackles but eventually fades out. Just as he goes for one more attempt, the ship turns upside down and he is thrown out of his seat, hitting the wall of the ship with a loud crash. "Sorry, Obi-wan," his master apologises from the front as he gingerly rubs the back of his head and makes his way quickly back to this seat. "You might want to strap yourself in. This is going to get rough."

"The first intelligent thing you've said all trip, Master," Obi-wan jests with a smirk, gripping the armrests of his seat. Qui-Gon pilots the ship with practiced skill, dodging, weaving and swirling in and out of the Naboo shot. The squad of six starfighters gain on them though, and despite the Jedi's superior flying, the Gungan vessel is no match. One of the engines blow and there is a great shudder, as the ship sinks to the right. "Master, we need to get out of here! There's nowhere to land without hurting civilians!"

Qui-Gon merely shakes his head. "We must speak to the Queen. If I can get us close enough to the palace, we can eject from the ship."

Obi-wan stares at his master in disbelief. Eject from the ship? He can't possibly be serious? But, then again, Master Qui-Gon Jinn is known for his unorthodox ways. Still, the apprentice expresses his concern. "What about the ship? We won't be able to control it."

"They are shooting us down anyway," his master explains. "It won't matter. The most important thing is to show them we are Jedi. Inside this ship, they cannot recognise us."

Nodding, Obi-wan does as instructed as his master steers the slowly falling ship closer to the Palace. There are swarms of Naboo soldiers spread out underneath them in tightly formed lines, shooting at them, and Obi-wan admires their uniformity. Perhaps, if they are prepping for an invasion, they may yet be victorious. Soon, all thoughts of achievement are pushed from his mind as Qui-Gon gives the signal. Obi-wan ignites his lightsaber and draws a hole in the floor of the Gungan ship, before glancing up at his master. The older Jedi gives his padawan a small nod of approval, before the both of them jump through the makeshift escape route, falling towards the ground below.

Letting the Force guide him, Obi-wan lands deftly on his feet, coming to a crouch in front of the Naboo forces. As he looks up, Qui-Gon beside him, he sees a commander raise a hand, instructing his men to stand down. With a grin, the Jedi rise to their feet and Obi-wan hooks his weapon back on his belt, not wanting to give the Naboo a reason to be frightened. Off in the distance, there is the faint crash of the Gungan ship plummeting into the waves beyond the cliff.

"Identify yourselves," the commander demands in a rough, deep voice, stepping forward to stand before the Jedi. He is taller than Obi-wan but shorter than Qui-Gon, with a burly, muscled build and dark, cropped hair. There is a permanent scowl on his face, highlighted by thick eyebrows and a heavy crease in his forehead. A gruff man, Obi-wan decides.

With the ease and grace of a feline, Qui-Gon smiles and bows politely. "I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn," he introduces himself. "This is my Padawan, Obi-wan Kenobi. We are here at the request of Queen Amidala, by order of Chancellor Velorum."

The commander gives them a once-over, eyes flicking down to the lightsabers on their belts before meeting their eyes. "Your means of transportation... we were expecting a Republic ship."

Again, Qui-Gon simply smiles. "The blockade made our arrival far from smooth. We had to make... necessary arrangements. But I assure you, are intentions remain the same."

With a curt nod, the commander softens his firm presence just enough to accept them. "If you will come with me, Master Jedi. I shall take you to the Queen."

The Jedi follow, falling into step behind the Naboo commander, who introduces himself as General Nahir, leader of the Naboo forces. He apologises for their rude welcome, explaining how the Queen received confirmation regarding the Trade Federations intended invasion, and ordered her army to be prepared. "The Trade Federation have blocked all our communication channels," Nahir explains when Qui-Gon asks why they were unable to make contact with the capital. "When we saw your ship, we assumed the worst." The Jedi accept the apologies kindly.

Whilst his master converses with Nahir, Obi-wan eagerly takes in the surroundings. Inside, the Royal Palace is as grand as it's exterior, exuding all the regality one would expect from an old city. The floors are marble with a pristine shine to them that enhance the sound of his boots as he walks. Tall ivory pillars stretch from floor to ceiling, three times the girth of an oak, lining the corridors before spreading out into a large, ornate clearing. Large, circular windows give glimpses of the ocean below. It is a beautiful place.

The General leads them through a set of high, mahogany doors, into a room with a long table that ran the length of it. The entire court face the newcomers, eying them suspiciously, and the General bows low. "May I present, her royal highness, Queen Amidala. Your Majesty, the Jedi have arrived."

At the end of the table, the Queen rises and nods solemnly at the Jedi, as the rest of her court stand up with her. Despite her makeup and royal guard, the Queen looks very young. Only a girl, Obi-wan thinks to himself. Her small statue only adds to her youth, but when she speaks, there is a wisdom to her that is beyond your years.

"Jedi," she greets them in a calm, authoritative tone. "Welcome. I have long awaited your arrival."

Qui-Gon, as expected, is the first to speak. "Queen Amidala, it is indeed a pleasure. I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my Padawan, Obi-wan Kenobi. We are your servants."

Amidala sighs heavily, sinking back down into her seat and her court follows. Nahir bows again and bids his leave, which he is granted, and the two Jedi slowly approach the table. There is much chatter amongst the members of the Queen's counsel, and many stolen glances. Obi-wan eyes them all cautiously. It is true that many people, especially politicians, are wary of Jedi. Though their presence is meant to be comforting, there is no denying the gravity of the situation and why they are here. Tension is thick and hot in the air, and with a quick search through the Force, Obi-wan can sense the trepidation from each counsel member. The Queen, however, seems less fearful and more… sad. Something is troubling her, Obi-wan can sense it.

"I'm afraid it is too late for you to be much help to me, Master Qui-Gon," Amidala says.

"Your Majesty, what is going on here? The Chancellor dispatched myself and my padawan to Naboo as negotiators, yet when we arrived, we were greeted by a blockade. Your commander has informed me that all communication channels in and out of Naboo have been blocked and there hasn't been trade for two weeks."

"The situation is far graver than I originally anticipated," she says. "Viceroy Gunray has begun his invasion. He intends to take occupancy over Naboo."

Obi-wan glances at his master in muffled confusion. So, an invasion it is. That much was not so surprising. But there was a great darkness looming over the entire situation that made him unsteady, and it was clear that his master felt the same. Why would Viceroy Gunray wish to invade Naboo? It was only a small middle-rim planet, and though prosperous, it held none of the wealth of many greater systems. If a show of strength was what he wanted, surely Alderaan would be a more appealing target, or even better, Coruscant itself, the heart of the Republic. The action befuddled Obi-wan. Something larger was at stake here, and when he saw the knowing glint in his master's blue eyes, he realised that it Qui-Gon could feel it too.

"The Republic cannot allow this invasion. It is unlawful, Your Majesty. If they were to know about this, they would surely come to your aid."

Amidala shakes her head, growing sad, and Obi-wan can sense the distress in her aura. "We cannot contact the Senate, Master Jedi. We are helpless against this invasion. My people are strong-willed, yet even they will not be able to hold their own without reinforcements."

"Masters Jedi," a white-haired man on the Queen's right hand stood and inclined his head respectfully. "The Viceroy may force the Queen to sign a treaty legalising this occupation… by whatever means necessary. If that were to happen…" he breaks off as the suspense in electric. Obi-wan understands his concerns. Though there is a great strength in the Queen, she is only human. Her resolve may crumble under torture, and the Viceroy will eventually get his treaty. They won't kill her, oh no. They will merely keep her alive until she has served her purpose.

 _What shall we do, Master?_ He asks through the Force, not trusting himself to speak openly amongst the Queen's counsel. He is highly distrustful of politicians.

 _We must get the Queen to Coruscant,_ Qui-Gon answers. _We must keep her safe. She is the key to everything. Without her, this invasion is meaningless._

"Governor Bibble, I can assure you that such a treaty will never be signed by my hand. Sooner would I die than sacrifice my people to the hands of the Trade Federation," The Queen announces firmly, her expression growing forceful.

Bibble humbles immediately, and bows low before her. "Of course, my Queen. I was not suggesting that you would – "

"I know," she smiles at him, a radiate smile, Obi-wan decides. A rather remarkable woman, wise and strong for her young years.

When all grows silent, it is Obi-wan who decides to speak up. "Nonetheless, Your Majesty, your safety is paramount. Without you, Viceroy's plans are foiled. You must leave Naboo." Beside him, his master hums in approval.

At his suggestion, Amidala frowns. "I will not abandon my people, Obi-wan Kenobi. A ruler must set an example to her people. What Queen would I be if I ran at the first sign of danger?"

Qui-Gon steps forward. "I agree with my Padawan, Your Majesty. The Senate must know of this invasion. And they must hear it from you. Think of it not as running, but of seeking aid for your people."

Still, she is determined. The handmaiden at her shoulder bends to whisper something in her ear, and she nods in response. "My counsel is dismissed, all save the Jedi and Captain Penaka." Once the room is empty, Amidala turns to her head of security. "What are your thoughts on this matter, sir?"

The man says nothing for a while. There is a brooding air about him, and Obi-wan senses his determination. He is an honour-bound man, devoted solely to protecting the Queen at all costs. It is clear why she asks of his thoughts before making any decisions. Thick, dark eyebrows furrow and he lowers his head, just slightly, to meet Amidala's gaze. "I agree with the Jedi. We need reinforcements, My Queen, and you need sanctuary. The two are synonymous."

The Queen pauses, contemplating the present issue. It is clear she has reservations about leaving her people to the fate of the invasion, but Obi-wan admires that. Her love for her people is strong and true, it is no wonder she is dearly loved by all Naboo. "Very well," she concedes after a time, defeat evident in her voice. Her eyes fall on the two Jedi before her. "I will agree to your plan, Masters Jedi. However, how do you propose we leave? The blockade will make it nigh impossible."

The master and his apprentice exchanges glances, and there is a mischevious twinkle in Qui-Gon's eyes; a twinkle that suggests he is thinking of a radical plan. Obi-wan holds back a laugh – his master is nothing if not unique. They communicate through the force, and Qui-Gon fleshes out the details of the plan. It is risky, and the chance of success is slim, not to mention the inevitable causualities, and yet Obi-wan can think of no better alternative.

"We will need a diversion and as many volunteers as we can find," Qui-Gon says. "Only volunteers. We do not want to force men to risk their lives."

"And what diversion is this, Master Qui-Gon?" The Queen quirks an eyebrow, her painted lips coming together in a thin line.

The Jedi Master quickly explains the plan, and is met by much hostility by the Queen, yet with great enthusiasm by her head of security. At her request, General Nahir presents himself and together, they discuss the plan, breaking down the different aspects until there is a unanimous agreement, at least, amongst all men present. The Queen is not shy in expressing her distaste for such an outrageous plan. She is not fond of allowing men to risks their lives for her own, no matter how willing they are. Yet, with the help of Qui-Gon Jinn's exceptional persuasion techniques, she eventually agrees and puts her concerns aside for another time.

Nahir leaves to prepare his volunteers, of which there are plenty. The love the Naboo have for their Queen ffdsis rather unprecedented, and Obi-wan expresses this to his master as they finalise the details of their plan with Penaka. Qui-Gon simply nods and smiles. "My young apprentice, a good ruler inspires good people. This you must remember when you train your own padawan someday. Always lead by example."

With everything in order, the Jedi are taken down to the hangar where they are presented with a first-class Naboo starfighter. The mechanic eagerly insists it is the faster on Naboo, save for the Queen's own royal airship. It's sleek build certainly impresses Obi-wan, but, he thinks with a smirk, anything is better than that clunky Gungan ship. Even a freighter. Obi-wan settles in the cockpit beside his master, as the Queen and her handmaiden arrive. Penaka insists that she take her entire entourage, including himself and several soldiers, but Amidala is insistent that her party remain small, and that all she requires is a handmaiden and her R series droid. Though Obi-wan admires the Queen for her trust, he can't help but wonder how a handmaiden would be useful in battle. Surely, Penaka would be a better choice. But he does not raise this query. It is safer just to abide by the Queen's wishes.

The plan is simple. Launch an entire star fleet towards the blockade, with the Queen's ship in the middle, hoping to draw the fire of the Trade Federation enough so that Qui-Gon can slip through unharmed and disappear into hyperspace. However simple, there is always room for error. The blockade is tightly held, it will not be easy to navigate a safe path, even with Qui-Gon's exceptional piloting. With the Queen on board, the mission is made even more dangerous. If she dies, they might as well just hand Naboo over to the Viceroy on a silver platter. All know this, and yet there is a certain determination within the vessel as they prepare for takeoff. The lack of communication makes it difficult, yet the Naboo are well trained, and use lighting signals to contact each other.

On Nahir's signal, they take off at full speed, straight towards the blockade looming ahead. Several large ships are slowly making their descent towards Theed. _Droids_ , Obi-wan thinks bitterly. The invasion has begun. The absence of these ships, however, creates a gap in the blockade, enough for Qui-Gon to pass through if they are quick enough. Obi-wan informs his master of this. All seems well.

Suddenly, their flanks take a hit. A small fleet of enemy starfighters are flying towards them in an attack formation. Immediately going on the defensive, Qui-Gon slips behind a fellow ship and opens fire. Laser blasts light up the sky around them like a metero shower, vibrant blues and brilliant reds. Obi-wan wastes no time in joining the fight, moving from his seat next to his master to operate the guns. Several of their fleet are shot down, but still they gain distance. In the midst of the battle, he manages to several hit two of the starfighters, but more Naboo ships are being lost than the enemy.

A crackling, then a hologram figure appears. It is a Neimoidian. Communication channels must have reopened. "Naboo cruiser. Stand down," he says aggressively. "This is Viceroy Gunray. Surrender or you will die."

As he says the words, their ship is hit, badly, on the left side, and it causes the Queen and and her handmaiden to fly into the window, crashing to the floor. Obi-wan goes to assist them, when they are hit again, blowing one of the engines.

"Surrender. This is your last chance to stand down."

Despite the critical damage to their ship, Qui-Gon slams his fist against the hologram, cutting the transmisison, and desperately weaves his way through the blockade. "R2D2," he calls to the Queen's droid. "All power to the forward engines."

The droid beeps in response and obeys the command, letting the ship surge forward suddenly. Qui-Gon impressively dodges the fire while Obi-wan stays beside the Queen – her forehead is bleeding from the force of the impact and her handmaiden tends to her.

"Charge up the hyperdrive," Qui-Gon demands.

Though still in range, they have managed to slip past the last of the blockade, though three starfighters are hot on their tail. With one engine destroyed, it will not be long before they catch up.

"Master, we do not have enough fuel to make it back to Coruscant!" he calls out, trying desperately not to panic, despite the situation.

"Tatooine," the Queen says firmly, signalling to her handmaiden that she is alright. "That is the next closest system." Obi-wan and Qui-Gon exchange looks. Tatooine is governed by the notorious gangster Jabba the Hutt, who do not take kindly to visitors, Jedi or otherwise. Amidala, however, remains insistent. "The sooner we make repairs, the sooner we can get to Coruscant."

There is no denying that logic. As the trailing starfighters creep closer and closer, never ceasing their fire, the hyperdrive becomes fully charged and their ship disappears swiftly into hyperspace.

* * *

 ** _A/N: I hope you enjoyed this next chapter._**


	3. A New Acquaintance

**Title:** Star Wars AU Episode I: Return of the Sith

 **Author:** HermioneLunaPotter

 **Setting:** Prequels AU - based on the fan theory by Belated Media

 **Genre:** Adventure

 **Disclaimer:** Obviously I don't own any of this. I just have a solid (and slightly obsessive) interest in Star Wars.

* * *

 _ **Chapter 3: A New Acquaintance**_

 _Mos Espa, Tatooine_

Of the limited planets Obi-wan has been to, he decides then and there that Tatooine is his least favourite. Sand is everywhere. Nothing lives. Nothing grows. He wonders how anything could possibly survive in such a desert wasteland, for he is sure that it rarely rains. And the heat, it is almost unbearable. His entire body is dripping with perspiration underneath his Jedi robes, though he says nothing, for he knows he will get little sympathy from his master.

They land - or _crash,_ in Obi-wan's opinion - in a field of sand dunes, as far away from civilisation as possible. Qui-Gon insists that it is safer to be inconspicuous, though Obi-wan believes that is merely a cover for the fact that they ran out of fuel faster than expected and needed to make a quick landing. After R2D2 inspects the damage, it comes to their attention that not only do they need fuel and supplies to make it back to Coruscant, they are in desperate need of repairs. The navigation through the blockade left their ship in a bad way, worse than initially anticipated, and unless they receive assistance soon, they will not make it to Coruscant in time and Naboo will fall.

It is with this intention that the two Jedi, accompanied by the Queen's handmaiden, set out to barter for supplies. The presence of the handmaiden confuses Obi-wan. They are running on a deadline, and the presence of a young, untrained servant girl will only slow their progress. When he complains to his master, the girl pipes up, a determined scowl on her young, pretty face.

"I assure you, Jedi," she says firmly, "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." With that, she pulls out a blaster from inside her garment, which surprises Obi-wan futher, because her loose pants and midriff baring shirt are hardly the place to hide weapons.

"Why would a handmaiden to the Queen need a blaster?" he finds himself asking, raising his eyebrows suspiciously.

The girl flicks her long, brown curls and fixes him with a stubborn expression. "I am charged with the Queen's life. I must be able to protect her at all times."

Obi-wan crosses his arms. He refuses to be chastised by a girl, a servant girl at that. _She has a rather sharp tongue for a handmaiden,_ he muses, frowning at her. "That's her bodyguards' duty, is it not?"

"And who is to protect Her Majesty while she is dressing? Or sleeping?"

The fierce look in her eyes makes Obi-wan realise he has crossed a line, but he is young and not used to dealing with females, at least, not the non-Jedi kind, so in his arrogance, he oversteps. Besides, who is she to talk to him like that? He is a Jedi, she is simply a handmaiden. "I simply thought the Queen would have more _qualified_ protectors, that is all."

Suddenly, the girl shoots, and it is lucky that Obi-wan has the quick reflexes of a Jedi, or else his head might have been blasted off. He quickly ignites his lightsaber and blocks the shot, aiming it into the floor below. Green lightsaber still ablaze, he glares at her, but she simply tucks her blaster away, a smug look on her face.

"I thought the Republic would have sent more _qualified_ Jedi to treat with the Trade Federation," she quips, brushing past Obi-wan with a determined push of her shoulders, her head held high in defiance. "We will never reach Coruscant if you intend to stand there all day," she calls brusquely from ahead.

Obi-wan gapes after her, unsure of what just happened, before turning to his master. "She - she just... how could you - ?" he stammers, unable to believe that he had just been bested by a handmaiden with a blaster and his master had done nothing to stop it. His face grew red and hot in embarrassment.

Qui-Gon simply laughs, a knowing glint in his eyes. "My young padawan," he says, "you have much to learn about the female species."

Disgruntled, Obi-wan crosses his arms and frowns. "She could be a spy sent to assassinate us, Master," he growled. "I don't trust her."

"Relax, my young padawan. She is of no threat to us. That is, unless you intend to provoke her more."

Saying nothing, Obi-wan frowns sullenly and follows his master as they catch up to the handmaiden. It still surprises him that the Queen's handmaiden is so outspoken and bold. It is far different from the servants he sees amongst the Coruscanti elite, who are all demure and placid and timid. Perhaps they are treated differently on Naboo. The Queen and her handmaiden are similar in age, perhaps they are more like friends rather than a master and a servant. It is an intriguing relationship.

The city of Mos Epsa is a spaceport settlement, from what Obi-wan can see. It is buzzing with activity and the marketplace is crammed with all lifeforms; the obscure, winged Toydarians, the skulking Jawas in their hooded cloaks, an assortment of droids, but mostly humans. The two Jedi are cloaked in refugee linens over their robes, in order hide their status, for they do not want to draw attention to themselves. The presence of Jedi is alarming, no matter what for, and Qui-Gon does not want any trouble.

As they explore, Obi-wan can't help but notice the amount of people dressed in very plain linens running errands from store to store. The way they move, never deterring off course, acquiring what they need with quick efficiency. He's never seen anything like it. _Slaves,_ Qui-Gon tells him through the Force, and suddenly it all makes sense. Tatooine was ruled by the Hutt's, and they were one of slaverys biggest fans. Though slavery was abolished in all of the Inner and Middle Rim systems, it seems the Republic was unable to liberate those slaves in the Outer Rim. The sight makes Obi-wan grow sad.

"Is there anything we can do, Master?" he asks as they pass several child-slaves running back to their masters with bowls of fruit, tools, jewels or other various items.

Sadly, Qui-Gon shakes his head. "We are but two Jedi, my young apprentice. Even we could not liberate all the slaves in Tatooine."

"This is awful. The Senate must not know about this, or else they would have done something," the handmaiden exclaims passionately, eyes bright with hope. Obi-wan finds her comment strange, for though she is not a slave, she is still a servant and reports to a master. Then again, Obi-wan also reports to a master. If he does not consider himself a slave, then neither must she.

Qui-Gon fixes the girl with a sad, serious expression. "Do not be so sure of that, my dear. There are many things the Senate chooses to ignore in order to maintain peace."

"But, they are _children!_ " she cries and Obi-wan can't help but sympathise with her. He feels the same.

"Yes," Qui-Gon nods his head. "Most likely they are born into slavery and have no other choice."

A young girl bumps into Qui-Gon as she runs past him, knocking her ornate golden vase to the ground where it promptly smashes to pieces. Her face grows wide in terror as she bends to pick up the pieces and Obi-wan watches as Qui-Gon crouches beside her. The girls fingers are trembling as she reaches for the fragments until the Jedi Master takes her hand gently and hushes her.

"It's alright, my dear. It is only a vase."

The girl shakes her head frantically, her frightened eyes continually flashing towards a villa several clicks from them. "My... my m-master's favourite - sent me... I - he c-can't..." she stammers, tears leaking from her eyes. "T-that's all the m-money he gave m-me..."

Nodding, Qui-Gon reaches into his robes and hands the girl a handful of credits. Her eyes grow impossibly wider and she shakes her head furiously. Smiling kindly, the Jedi Master takes her hand and drops the credits into it, tapping her palm. "It's alright, child. Buy another one."

The girl sobs and mutters incoherent gratitude before bolting away from them. As Qui-Gon stands and smooths down his robes, Obi-wan approaches him. "That was very kind of you, Master, but now we are short of credits."

The older Jedi's eyes grow grave. "It was the right thing to do, my young padawan. We will have enough credits to get us back to Coruscant, I assure you."

Obi-wanthinks on his master's words, knowing them to be true, but also knowing that they are in desperate need of repairs, and such aid will be difficult to come by with limited credits. As he contemplates using the Force to bribe his way into cheaper repairs, the handmaiden has already asked several by-passers and is currently making her way towards an old workshop. Her deliberation is rather amusing to behold, and Obi-wan watches her in fascination. She is unlike any handmaiden he has ever met, and he has come across quite a few of them in Coruscant. Not only is she resourceful, but bold in her actions and, from the way she is conversing with the Toydarian workshop owner, doesn't take 'no' for an answer.

The two Jedi soon join the handmaiden, who is trying to barter her way into cheaper service. The Toydarian is playing her, Obi-wan can tell. His expression is blank as he listens to her brusque demands with mild interest.

"My dear, no matter how urgent your situation is, I will not rob myself of my services. You simply do not have enough credits for what you require."

Her bottom lip sticks out stubbornly and she cocks her hip, crossing her arms in a defiant stance. "Please, you must help us," she insists. "My lady is very wealthy, she can repay you."

Again, the Toydarian only shakes his head. "How can I trust you? I'm sorry, you will have to look some place else."

The handmaiden frowns and is about to yell something, probably an insult, when Qui-Gon interjects. "You will grant us the services we require for the amount of credits we have," he says, very calmly, and Obi-wan watches in surprise. He hadn't expected his master to use a Jedi mind trick while here on Tatooine. If anyone was alerted to the fact that there were Jedi present, the Hutts would soon find out, and he was not in the mood to deal with them. Jabba the Hutt had a long-standing hatred of Jedi that he had no difficultly in expressing. It was known throughout the galaxy.

"I will grant you the services you require for the amount of credits you have," the Toydarian repeats in a slow monotone, his eyes glazing over just a little. And then, he barks something harsh in a foreign language, Huttese is Obi-wan recalls from his studies, and there is sudden, very strong disturbance in the Force. It is more powerful than anything Obi-wan has ever felt before, a colossal surge of electricity and when he looks to his master, it is clear that he feels it, too. _What is that?_ he asks, trying to determine whether this disturbance is good or evil. It is difficult to tell. All that Obi-wan is certain of is that it is extremely powerful.

 _I don't know,_ his master answers through the Force. _There is something very powerful here, my young apprentice._

A young boy, no older than twelve, appears from the back of the workshop, his blond head bowed timidly. A slave. The Toydarian, whose name is Watto, barks another order at him and the boy nods his head, muttering back in the broken, harsh language, never raising his eyes to meet his masters. Obi-wan watches the interaction with interest as the boy beckons them to follow him out into the back. There is something strange about this boy. Very strange indeed.

* * *

 _Fralideja, Mustafar_

The fires are more aggressive than normal, the hooded creature notes as he makes his way across the thin bridge. Lava courses fluidly underneath him in hot waves, spitting and churning as though is in an angry beast. The entire planet reeks of anger. It is fitting, really, for a Sith lair. The volcanic terrain and frequent eruptions make for a toxic environment, breeding hatred and anger and _fear,_ all of which the Sith feed upon. A thick smokey haze clouds the air, making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead, but Maul is used to such darkness. His own planet of Dathomir is nigh always shrouded under the cover of darkness, the only light coming from the dwarf-star at the centre of the system which bathes everything in a dim, red glow. The planet of the Nightsisters. Evil places breed evil beings, it is said.

Yet, why his master has summoned him here at such an hour is beyond him. The invasion of Naboo has begun and the Queen has disappeared, according to Viceroy Nute Gunray of the Trade Federation. Everything is falling into place as his master had foreseen. There should be no reason for the apprentice to be called to Mustafar. Yet, he knows to keep such opinions to himself. Only once has he experienced the full wrath of the Sith, and he knows to never push his master to that point again. Lord Sidious does not take kindly to failure.

Though still in the prime of his youth, Maul has been a Sith apprentice for ten years. He is strong with the Force, and even stronger with the Darkside. At times, he thinks he could defeat his master. It would not be too difficult, he is sure of his power. And then he could find his own apprentice, and give orders, instead of being the one taking orders. Maul detests being a servant. He only wants power. He graves it.

Only two there are, a master and an apprentice. There is never more than two. The Jedi made that fatal mistake of recognising too many masters. Sidious tells him often that the council makes them weak, that democracy is a weakness that needs to be eradicated. The Sith have no need for democracy. They deal only with absolute power. _It is the natural order of things, my apprentice,_ his master has told him many times. All lifeforms seek a higher power, seek order. Without order, there is only chaos. _Democracy breeds chaos_.

When he enters the Sith lair, he falls immediately to one knee in front of the cloaked figure of his master. Maul is the only life form alive that has seen the nefarious Lord of the Sith in person, and it is a fact that makes him feel powerful. His master's back is turned away from him, facing the surging lava river that surrounds the lair, and does not acknowledge Maul's presence. The Sith apprentice waits patiently, keeping his head bowed low to the ground in respect.

"Rise," Sidious' voice echoes roughly through the room, and Maul does as he is instructed. He lets his hood fall back, revealing his deep red skin and horned skull, before approaching his master. Though the taller of the two, there is no denying who is in charge. Sidious still refuses to face him, keeping his hooded frame poised towards the window.

"You summoned me, my master," Maul begins. His master never speaks first. It is a sign of weakness.

Sidious is silent for a few moments, before he clasps his hands together underneath the billowing sleeves of his robe. "I have a task for you, my apprentice."

"How may I serve?" Maul asks, all subservient, because he knows it works in his favour.

It is then that Sidious turns towards him, face covered in shadow save for the beady, yellow-rimmed eyes that peek out of the hood. Eyes of the Darkside. "Queen Amidala is on Tatooine. She is accompanied by the two Jedi. You are to eradicate them and bring the Queen to Gunray. _Alive._ "

If is is surprised by the sudden request, Maul does little to show it. Instead, he simply bows his head lowly. "It will be done, my master."

Those yellow eyes flash, growing brighter in the dimly lit room. "Do not fail me."

* * *

 _Watto's workshop, Mos Espa_

 _The Force is strong with this boy._ That is the first thought that appears in Qui-Gon Jinn's mind as his eyes rest on the young slave for the first time. There is nothing too extraordinary about him. His is human, no younger than twelve, with a mop of shaggy, blond curl and inquisitive blue eyes. His carries himself timidly, as is common among slaves. And yet, there is no denying it. His Force signature is so powerful that Qui-Gon wonders if it rivals Master Yoda's. He has never seen a child so strong with the Force before. And to be so far out in the Outer Rim, it is no wonder the Council have not found him.

He follows the boy into the back room, his padawan and the Queen's handmaiden falling into step behind him. All concerns about supplies and returning to Coruscant have vanished, replaced with a sudden need to find out all he can about this boy. How did the Council not find him, when his Force signature is so strong? Perhaps his padawan is right; perhaps the foresight of the council _is_ fading. But Qui-Gon pushes that to the side.

"What is your name, boy?" he asks as the slave leads them into a storage room filled with a large variety of spare parts.

He bites his lip and keeps his head fixed at the ground. "My master did not give me a name," he says miserably and there is a hint of shame in his voice that Qui-Gon senses.

The handmaiden gives out a gasp in surprise and presses her hand to her mouth. His apprentice simply looks uncomfortable. "But surely your mother gave you a name," she cries, insistent, horrified. There is a strong air of compassion around this girl, Qui-Gon can feel is seeping out of her very soul. A sense of duty to help those in need. It is a strange trait for a handmaiden.

It is clear the boy is uncomfortable, for he shifts his feet and refuses to look up. "Y-yes," he stammered. "She called me Anakin Skywalker."

So. Anakin Skywalker, the Tatooine slave boy, is Force sensitive. There is something very intriguing about him. And not just because he is from Tatooine. Qui-Gon vaguely recalls a prophecy, made many years ago by a Jedi who has long since passed. A prophecy foretelling one who will bring balance to the Force. It is this prophecy that haunts him while he stands in that workshop. When he projects his thoughts to his padawan, Obi-wan frowns at him. He has never believed in such things. Obi-wan is practical, even when dealing with the Force.

Out of the three of them, it is the handmaiden who has the most luck communicating with the boy. She approaches him, of a height with him even though she is a few years old, and flashes him a sweet smile. "Anakin. That's a nice name."

Anakin lifts his head and meets her eyes and Qui-Gon feels a shift in the Force. Something about this encounter will change the galaxy forever. He can feel it. He knows it. "What is your name?" Anakin asks her softly.

"Padmé," she says and holds out her hand. He looks at it quizzically, as though she his holding out a strange vegetable and not just her hand and he goes to reach for it, when something stops him. He abruptly turns away from her and begins to sort through a heap of tools.

Padmé the handmaiden regards him with pity, and Qui-Gon watches the interaction between the two youngsters curiously. Beside him, Obi-wan is becoming restless. He knows his apprentice simply wants to repair the ship and go back to Coruscant.

"What is wrong with your ship?" Anakin asks in a robotic tone with his back still turned.

Qui-Gon explains, "we lost one of our back engines and we've run out of fuel."

Nodding, Anakin turns back around, in his hands a tool box. "Take me to it."

At this, Obi-wan makes a sound of immense surprise. "You are just a boy. We need a mechanic." His voice is rough with frustration and Qui-Gon can sense that his padawan is irritated. Possibly due to the heat, he muses.

Anakin blinks his eyes, flicking them between the three of them with a blank, almost confused expression. "I - I am a mechanic," he informs them in a small voice.

"But you're a _slave!"_ Padmé exclaims, her brown eyes widening in horror.

"Yes," Anakin says. "I am my master's most skilled mechanic. He tells me, if I wasn't born a slave, I could make a career out of it."

The thought that this boy has so much potential and yet is imprisoned in slavery makes Qui-Gon grow sad. Slavery was outlawed in the Inner and Middle Rim systems for this exact reason. It is not fair, particularly for children, to be forced into slavery, carrying out mundane tasks for lazy superiors for no money and poor living quarters. A young boy, Force sensitive or otherwise, deserves all the oportunities in the world to succeed. It is this thought that drives the Jedi master to make the following announcement. "Padmé, my dear, would you stay here with Anakin. I need to talk to Obi-wan for a moment."

The girl nods her head obediently, though Qui-Gon can sense her budding curiosity simmering through the Force. Without another word, Qui-Gon beckons for his padawan to join him, and the two Jedi retreat out the back door, behind the workshop, away from prying eyes. Using the Force, he seals the door so that no eavesdroppers can hear there conversation. Obi-wan crosses his arms, an eyebrow raised, and his foot taps the ground impatiently.

"That boy is strong with the Force," Qui-Gon tells him. "Can you feel it?"

Frowning, Obi-wan nods his head curtly. "Yes, Master. It is very strong."

The Jedi master clasps his hands behind his back and closes his eyes. "I believe he is the boy from the prophecy."

"Master..." Obi-wan begins skeptically, his expression hardening. There is a serious glint in his sea-green eyes. "How can you be sure?"

Eyes still closed, Qui-Gon says, "I can feel it." The Force orchestrated all of this, he is sure of it. The damage to their ship, the Queen's insistence they land on Tatooine, Padmé choosing Watto's workshop where Anakin just happened to be. It had happened for a reason, for Qui-Gon to train Anakin in the ways of the force. When he mentions this to his padawan, however, he does not get the response he was looking for.

"You put too much faith in the Force, Master," he tells him. "This is all just a coincidence. Besides, the boy is too old to become a Jedi. The Council will not approve."

"It is never too late to become a Jedi, my young apprentice," Qui-Gon insists. "I _must_ train him. The Force wills it."

Obi-wan huffs angrily and throws his hands about. "You _can't_ train him, Master. _I'm_ your padawan, remember. You can't have both of us. What about me?"

"I don't need you as my padawan anymore, Obi-wan. You are ready to take the trials." He intends it as a compliment, but it seems to have the opposite affect on his young apprentice. Instead of being flattered, he only grows more frustrated - insulted, even.

"So you're willing to disobey the Council once again, just because you believe in some ridiculous prophecy made a hundred years ago?" Obi-wan demands.

Qui-Gon sighs heavily. "The Council will understand once I bring Anakin to the Temple. When they feel how _strong_ with the Force he is, they will have to agree with me."

"He's a slave, Master. You can't just bring him back to Coruscant. You'd have to _free_ him, and the only way to do that is to buy him. We don't have enough credits for that."

The point is fair, Qui-Gon grants his padawan that much. He hadn't thought about how exactly he was going to pull that off. "We could always smuggle him out," he suggests radically, and from the way Obi-wan's eyes bulge he knows it is a foolhardy idea. But Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn is not known for his conformity. He is radical and takes risks. And this is a particular risk he is willing to take.

Apparently, Obi-wan is not so willing. "You would jeopardise peace in the Republic by angering the Hutts all for a _slave boy_?" he cries, suddenly incredulous. He gapes at his master as though he has gone mad. Perhaps he has.

The Jedi Master sighs and closes his eyes again. In the forefront of his mind, he sees young Anakin Skywalker, of an age with his own padawan, wielding a lightsaber so formidably, slicing apart droid armies with such impressive skill, it rivals that of Master Windu. Whether it was a infamous Force vision he was having, or simply a figment of his own vivid imagination, Qui-Gon knew that he _had_ to train Anakin. "It's my duty."

With a growl, Obi-wan glares at his master and storms off into the complete opposite direction, his refugee cloak billowing around him.

"Where are you going?" Qui-Gon calls after him. The anger in him is simmering to nearly boiling point.

"Somewhere I'm needed." His voice is tortured. His pride is wounded and he needs to cool off.

Qui-Gon let's his padawan go.

* * *

 _ **A/N: I've decided to take a different approach to Anakin. He's a lot more timid and shy in this one, simply because he's a slave and he's been a slave his entire life. I feel it's much more realistic for him to be sheepish with no confidence, as opposed to his normal, arrogant self (he'll get there later). Also, I've decided to make him a little older. Still younger than Padmé, but only two years, not five.**_

 _ **Obi-wan reminds me a little of Anakin in this story - ambitious and a little prideful. He wants to be a Jedi knight, but he also wants to impress his master, and when Qui-Gon basically brushes him aside for Anakin, he gets jealous.**_

 _ **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. xx**_


	4. An Understanding

**Title:** Star Wars AU Episode I: Return of the Sith

 **Author:** HermioneLunaPotter

 **Setting:** Prequels AU - based on the fan theory by Belated Media

 **Genre:** Adventure

 **Disclaimer:** Obviously I don't own any of this. I just have a solid (and slightly obsessive) interest in Star Wars.

* * *

 _ **Chapter 4: An Understanding**_

 _Jawa's Java, Mos Espa_

Betrayed. Worthless. Angry. All these emotions surge through Obi-wan as he stumbles through the market place. He is not sure where he is going, only that _away_ is his destination. Away from his master. Away from the slave boy. What he _really_ wants, is to get away from Tatooine, but he settles for a bar instead. Jawa's Java, it's called, and it is as dirty, and dark and dingy as one would expect for a bar on a desert planet on the outskirts of the city. _Good,_ he thinks to himself. _I'm less likely to be found._ It's fairly empty, a few suspicious looking characters huddled in the shadows of a booth. Two Twi'lek females, scantily clothed in tiny tops and tight shorts, are giggling on the arm of a Rhodian male. They look up as he enters and begin whispering in Ryl to each other, but Obi-Wan ignores them and takes a seat on the bar, hood drawn up to conceal his face.

The drinks are different here, more bitter and leave a terribly taste in Obi-Wan's mouth, but it does the trick. He knows his master will scold him later when he finds out he's been drinking - for alcohol blurs the connection to the Force, and the Force is a Jedi's greatest ally, but right now, all he wants is to forget and get lost in the moment. Forget the fact that a young slave boy has threatened his position as he master's padawan.

 _Anakin Skywalker._

Obi-Wan loathes him already. It's not fair to the boy, not really. He probably doesn't even understand the Force, or even heard of a Jedi, and still, the young Jedi padawan despises him. He's been with Master Qui-Gon since he was thirteen. Their relationship is strong. Obi-Wan sees him much like a father figure. Given that younglings are taken from their families at birth and raised at the temple, he has never known his family. The Order is his family now, and his master is his father. And now, all that is about to be stripped from him. He can't let that happen. He _won't_. Obi-Wan doesn't care how strong Anakin is with the Force, nothing can sever his connection to his master.

Bitter and frustrated, he finishes his drink and quickly orders another, smacking his lips together to try and rid the unpleasant taste on his tongue. His master's urge to train the boy is nothing unexpected. Master Qui-Gon is a more _radical_ member of the Jedi Council. Oftentimes, he disregards their sacred rules and does what he feels is _right_ , which often gets him, and by affiliation, Obi-Wan himself, into trouble. The Council will not approve of training this boy. At twelve, he is too old, far too old. Younglings are trained from birth in the Jedi way, they understand humility, the difference between doing good and doing _right_ , the harm of forming attachments. Anakin is a slave. There is a great deal of fear inside him, Obi-Wan could sense it as soon as he entered the room. Fear, as Master Yoda has said many times, is a path to the Dark Side.

And yet, even Obi-Wan can't deny how strong the boy is with the Force. Such a strong signature, such raw, untapped power. He's never felt anything like it before, not even back at the temple, surrounded by Jedi Knights and Masters. Only Master Yoda's is comparative. For one so young, with such power, to not have been found by the Council concerns him. There is something else at stake here, Obi-Wan knows it. And he doesn't like it one bit.

As he takes a sip of his second drink, he can't help but reach out with the Force and eavesdrop on the figures in the booth. Bounty-hunters, he guesses, from their attire. Tatooine is crawling with them, all in service to Jabba the Hutt. Obi-Wan scowls. He's never liked bounty-hunters. They are selfish and greedy, without any moral center. It's all business. Still, he's curious, and can't help but overhear their conversation.

"... never seen the likes o' him before," a man says in a gruff voice.

"How much do you reckon he's worth?" crones the second voice.

The first voice hums for a moment. "Hundred."

"Who's to say he's wanted?" a female voice interjects.

"Everyone 'round here is wanted for something, Azhari. 'Sides, he's all alone. He's on the run, swear it on me mam's grave."

The second voice huffs. "You killed your own mother. Doesn't count."

"There's only one way to find out, boys," the female says with a hint of arrogance. "Allow me."

It's then that Obi-Wan realises they are talking about him. His hand dips lower underneath the loose folds of his cloak and grips the hilt of his lightsaber. As a precaution. He doesn't want to use it and draw attention to himself. Jedi are not welcome on Tatooine. Nevertheless, if he must to save his own skin, then he will not hesitate. Bounty-hunters cannot be trusted.

The woman approaches him but he does not raise his head. Instead, he keeps his eyes focused on the grimy bar. Perhaps, if he ignores her, she will let him be. She has other intentions, it would seem, for she perches herself on the bar stool next to him, and props an elbow on the bar, blinking at him.

"Hey, handsome," she cooes in a low, husky tone.

Obi-Wan darts his eyes across her form curiously. She is a Togruta, a fact which surprises him. Togruta females, much like Twi'leks, are usually forced into slavery and prostitution in the Outer Rim and Tatooine is no exception. He wonders how this particular female managed to escape that fate. Her striped lekkus fall elegantly over her shoulders and stop just above her bust, indicating that she is a young adult, and she flashes him a sultry wink. Though not his species, he can't deny that she is attractive, with her smooth copper skin, elegant white facial markings that surround her large, turquoise eyes, and her lithe, athletic form. If he wasn't a Jedi, or didn't know of her ulterior motive, he might have engaged with her flirtations, but he remains silent.

"What's a girl got to do to get a drink around here?" she teases and turns on the stool so her is sitting backwards, leaning back on both elbows. The action causes her back to arch and exposes her toned midriff and the supple curves of her breasts. Obi-Wan chuckles quietly. She certainly knows what she's doing.

Deciding that it is probably best to simply be polite, Obi-Wan turns to face her, still keeping his hood up. "Would you like one?"

She grins, her teeth glowing white against the copper of her skin. "Well, that's a bit forward of you, now, isn't it? You don't even know my name." She breaks off to laugh, before holding out her hand. "Juun Azhari."

He stays quiet, knowing it's best not to speak for fear of saying something he shouldn't.

"So," Juun Azhari tries a different angle, crossing one of her legs. Her fingers tap incessantly against the bar and it makes him grit his teeth in irritation. "Never seen you around here before. Where are you from? I'd remember a face that pretty," she flirts and winks again. The Jedi remains ignorant to her attempts. He can sense how much it annoys her, but she hides it well, persisting with her subtle interrogation. He has to give her some credit; if he didn't already know what she was up to, he might have opened up a little.

"We could use a guy like you," she says again, clearly frustrated at the lack of response to her questions. "You look like the silent, stealthy type." Her eyes sweep over him appreciatively and then she leans closer, until her lips are at his ear, not quite touching but so close. Obi-Wan shifts uncomfortably. "It pays pretty well, too" she purrs.

 _I bet it does,_ he thinks bitterly to himself. It is shocking how much someone will pay to eradicate another person, for knowing too much, or for not knowing enough. There is no honour in that sort of lifestyle. The eye for an eye approach is frowned upon by the Order.

The Togruta huffs petulantly. "You don't say much, do you?" Her eyes narrow and her jaw locks and she suddenly looks less attractive. One of her lekku's slips over her shoulder and down her back. As she readjusts herself, she kicks out her leg and it knocks Obi-Wan in the hip. There is a dull thud as her boot comes in contact with his lightsaber and her eyes widen at the sensation. She leaps off the stool with a feline grace and goes to pull back his cloak when he takes her wrist firmly in his hand, gripping it tightly.

"You don't want to do that," he says calmly, staring deep into her eyes. His mind trick is ineffective however, and she grins maniacally, a dangerous glint in her eyes. With a flash of silver, she pulls a blaster from her other hand and presses it against Obi-Wan's temple. He keeps his face impassive, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. His mind whirls as he tries to think of a way to escape this situation. She continues to press the weapon harder against his skin until he relents and frees her other hand. She immediately darts under his cloak and retrieves his lightsaber. She holds it in her hand as though it is a precious jewel, gazing at it in awe.

"This is a Jedi lightsaber," she says, before glancing at him. "No wonder you're on the run. The Jedi you stole this from must have a fortune on your head." The bounty hunter glares at him, blaster still poised at his head. "Who did you steal this from?"

"Who's to say I stole it," he replies smoothly.

She hits him hard over the head with her blaster, and he loses focus for a moment. A ringing sounds in his ears as he shakes his head. He can practically hear his master's voice in his head, reprimanding him for getting himself into such a situation. If anyone was to know that there are Jedi on Tatooine, they could be in grave danger.

"Don't lie to me, _thief,_ " Juun Azhari hisses. "People don't just _happen_ upon Jedi lightsabers." She turns to face the rest of her gang. "Drink up boys. We've got our next pay check." She gives Obi-Wan a sad face. "Pity. We could have used someone with your skills." The end of her blaster stares him right in the face and he wonders how obvious it would be if he used the force to lift her off the ground and throw her backwards. Of course, he doesn't want to draw attention to the fact that he is a Jedi, but if it saves his life...

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!"

The sudden, unexpected, _female_ voice, causes all three bounty hunters and Obi-Wan to turn, momentarily distracted. What he sees before him startles him. Padmé the handmaiden is standing in the middle of the bar, blaster in hand, fierce expression on her face as she aims at Togruta. It's almost comical, for she is so young and so tiny, surrounded by men and women who are much larger and tougher than her, but the handmaiden is brave. Far braver than Obi-Wan gave her credit for.

The bounty hunter cackles, throwing her head back so both of her lekkus bounce down her back. "Look at this boys. The thief has bought a mouse to save him."

Padmé shoots, hitting the Togruta in the hand, causing her to stumble backwards. The lightsaber falls from her hand and Obi-Wan takes no time to retrieve it mid air. The other bounty hunters draw their weapons, making their way over to Padmé and begin shooting at her. She holds her own, firing and ducking and running, shouting at Obi-Wan to _"get out of here."_

He hurries over to her, ignites his lightsaber and begins parrying the blows aimed at her, protecting her. "Run," he hisses under his breath. Other patrons begin to get involved and soon, an all out brawl erupts inside the bar.

" _You_ run," Padmé retorts stubbornly, causing Obi-Wan to growl in frustration. He takes her hand and pulls her towards the door, all the while blocking every shot aimed at them.

As they near the door, he shoves her out, yelling, "Go!" and turns back to face the coming onslaught of sudden enemies. Using the Force, he sends them flying into the wall, knocking them unconscious, then sprints after Padmé, stowing his lightsaber back on his belt. They round a corner, take a right and stop for breath behind the beige curtains of a market stall. It's only then that he processes what actually happened, and a new found respect for Padmé arises. He stands up straight and goes to thank her when she tucks her blaster back inside her clothes and scoffs.

"So, do I meet your expectations, Jedi _?_ " she snaps venomously and he flinches at the harshness of it. Clearly, she is still upset about his earlier remark.

Wanting to rectify the situation, he bows his head. "Thank you," he tells her, full of sincere gratitude. "You saved my life."

She smiles a little at that. "Well, someone had to."

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier," he hangs his head in shame. "I was wrong. You are a very qualified handmaiden."

Her lips quirk into a smirk and her dark eyes sparkle with amusement that Obi-Wan can't place. He senses she is hiding something, that she knows something that he doesn't, but what that actually is, he has no idea. "I think you'll find I'm much more than a handmaiden, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

* * *

 _Mos Espa, Tatooine_

"Tell me, boy," the Jedi Master asks as he watches the young slave work on the ship. The midday sun blazes relentlessly down upon them, and sweat drips off his nose, his long hair clings to his neck and he reeks of perspiration. Anakin Skywalker doesn't seem to notice the heat, for he works tireless, barely talking, occasionally stopping to wipe sweat of his brow with the back of his hand, before going back to his task. "How old are you?"

"Twelve," Anakin replies. He is shy, Qui-Gon can sense his fear through the Force. The life of a slave is all he knows, and he must be subservient to his masters to avoid their wrath. It saddens Qui-Gon and opens up a more fatherly, affectionate side that he had previously only saved for his padawan. He longs to take this boy in, harness his incredible power, train him and nurture him the way a father would. But first, he must gain his trust. And trust, he thinks to himself, will be very difficult to buy.

"You're very skilled for one so young," he praises him, giving him a fond smile. The boy blushes fiercely at the compliment. Qui-Gon suspects he does not receive them often.

"Thank you," he mutters, modestly.

"Do you like fixing things?" Qui-Gon probes him. He wants to find out as much as he can about this slave boy. If he is going to train him, he must know his background.

The question seems to spark something in the boy, for his eyes light up and a little grin pulls at his lips. So young. So pure. It reminds Qui-Gon of how Obi-Wan was when he was that age, and causes him to smile fondly. "Yes," Anakin nods his head, more cheery than before. "I like knowing how things work and putting things together and pulling them apart again. My mother says that - " he suddenly breaks off, embarrassed that he has said too much, and hangs his head. Yes, it is going to take a lot to get Anakin to break out of his shell. But Qui-Gon is persistent.

"It's alright, Anakin," he says kindly, reaching out to touch his hand. "You can talk to me. I don't mind."

The boy nods once, twice, swallows and then continues. "My - my mother says that one day I won't be a slave anymore, and I'll be the greatest mechanic in the galaxy. She says even the Supreme Chancellor will come to me for repairs." The way he swells with pride at the thought of doing something worthwhile makes Qui-Gon smile at him fondly. It's endearing.

"A very noble goal," Qui-Gon assures him. "Is that what you want to do?"

Anakin bites his lip, his startling blue eyes darting sheepishly to the ground. "I am a slave." The amount of shame and misery that seeps out of him through the Force is overwhelming. Such strong feelings, such strong emotions, Qui-Gon has never felt anything like it before.

"Even so, you must have dreams. What do you see in your dreams, Anakin?"

Anakin glances up at the Jedi Master, eyes brimming with hope. "Well... in my dreams, I'm some sort of warrior," he explains slowly. His brow is furrowed in confusion. "I wear these long robes, and I have a braid and a carry this... _thing_ , I don't know how to explain it, but it's blue and it's not a blade, but it's really sharp because it slices through droids really easily... but, it's only a silly dream. It's not actually real..." he breaks off and looks up, uncertainly, as though afraid to continue.

Qui-Gon is impressed. So, the boy is already having Force visions. They are not unheard of, but only few Jedi have been known to have them. Only one who is very in tune with the Force is able to let it show them the future. With a smile, he reaches into his refugee cloak and pulls out his own lightsaber. "Do you mean this?" he asks, igniting his blade, the luminous green colour casting an eerie glow on Anakin's face. The boy's eyes widen as he stares at the lightsaber, his jaw slacking just a little. His mouth opens and closes comically for a few moments before he shakes his head and blinks a few times. Qui-Gon waits patiently for him to come to his senses.

"That's..." Anakin swallows again. "That's it - " Disarming it, Qui-Gon hands him the lightsaber and watches as Anakin weighs it in his palm and brings it up close to his eye to inspect it. "W-what is it?"

"It's a lightsaber," Qui-Gon tells him. "It is a weapon used by the Jedi."

"Jedi?" The boy tips his head to the side.

"The Jedi are the protectors of the galaxy. They use the Force to keep peace within the star systems."

Anakin nods slowly, absorbing the information presented before him. It is a lot for the boy to take him, Qui-Gon knows, and yet it's important. Anakin must be aware of what a Jedi is and how the Force works before Qui-Gon offers to train him. Of course, the boy is perfectly entitled to refuse. But in order to make such a decision, he needs to know as much as he can.

"And that's what you are?" Anakin asks. "A Jedi?"

Qui-Gon nods. "Yes. I am Jedi Master, Qui-Gon Jinn."

"And the man who was with you, is he a Jedi Master too?"

 _The boy is smart,_ he remarks to himself. _Good. Intelligence will serve him well._ "He is my Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Anakin sits on the bow of the ship, his legs kicking out underneath him and swipes the back of his hand across his forehead. There is a frown etched on his forehead and he surveys the horizon with narrowed eyes. "Master Qui-Gon," he says after a while, looking up at him. His long eyelashes cast delicate shadows on his cheekbones. He has a sweet, almost cherubic face, pure and light, and yet there is so much turmoil within him; fear, anger, uncertainty. _He needs me,_ Qui-Gon decides. _He needs me to show him how to deal with his emotions._ "My dreams... I'm a Jedi in my dreams. What does that mean?"

The Jedi Master moves to sit beside the slave boy. "Your dreams are not just any dreams, Anakin," he explains. "They are Force dreams. Some Jedi are blessed with visions of the future through the Force. Such are your dreams of being a Jedi."

"What is the Force?"

"The Force resides in all living things, Anakin. It is an energy field that binds the galaxy together. It's what gives a Jedi his power."

"But you said it gives you visions of the future?" he asks, suddenly skeptical. "How can an energy field know the future?"

Qui-Gon laughs at his curiosity. He is such an inquisitive boy, much like his own padawan had been. "Yes. The Force is neither past, present or future. It just _is_. It's what gave you your dreams of being a Jedi."

The boy pouts, clasping his hands together and fidgets in his seat. "How can it be a vision of the future? I'll never be a Jedi. I'll be a slave forever, just like my mother." He is so miserable, that Qui-Gon wants to hug the boy, but he refrains. It is unwise for Jedi to form attachments, and he already feels something of the sort for this poor, unfortunate boy. He can't push the boundaries any further.

"With an attitude like that, you'll never be a true Jedi."

Anakin glares up at him, petulant and insulted, accusation swimming in those blue eyes. "What do you mean?" he asks, a little rudely, but Qui-Gon ignores his reaction.

"I am willing to train you, Anakin, but you need to believe in yourself. You need to have faith in the Force, trust in it, in it's path for you."

"You - you want to _train_ me?" he stutters in disbelief, blinking up at him blankly. A flash of excitement crosses his face, but he bites his lip to gain composure.

Qui-Gon smiles. "Yes. You are very strong with the Force, Anakin. I believe you will be a great Jedi one day."

The pure euphoria that pours out of him and ignites the Force around him is enough to make Qui-Gon chuckle. Anakin bounces, such hope in his young face, overwhelmed with joy. But then, his face falls and he slumps forward, shoulders hunched and face pointed to the ground. "Even so, I'm still a slave. Watto will never free me. I'm too valuable to him. _His prized possession._ " He spits out the words, and Qui-Gon can sense the deep hatred for his master that runs deep. It will be something they will have to control if he is to truly live up to his potential, to the prophecy.

With a sad smile, the Jedi Master puts his arm around the young boy's shoulders in reassurance. "Leave your master to me, Anakin." He will free this boy, no matter what it takes. It is his destiny.

* * *

 ** _A/N: Sorry for taking so long to update! I've been picking and picking at this chapter, constantly rewriting things, and it's only today that I was finally hit with massive inspiration and managed to get it finished. This story is AU, and even though it's based on Belated Media, it's not exactly the same. I was inspired by their ideas and what they came up with and decided to take what they suggested and see what I could do with it. So yes, some things will be different, some things will be the same. But I hope you enjoy it anyway._**

 ** _Juun Azhari is my own character. One day I might write a totally OC story about her, but we'll see._**

 ** _Thanks for reading :) xx_**


	5. A Friend

**Title:** Star Wars AU Episode I: Return of the Sith

 **Author:** HermioneLunaPotter

 **Setting:** Prequels AU - based on the fan theory by Belated Media

 **Genre:** Adventure

 **Disclaimer:** Obviously I don't own any of this. I just have a solid (and slightly obsessive) interest in Star Wars.

* * *

 _ **Chapter 5: A Friend**_

 _Mos Espa, Tatooine_

"How did you know where I was, anyway?" Obi-Wan asks Padmé as they walk side-by-side back to their damaged Naboo ship. It's so hot that he can barely stand it. Sweat drips down his forehead and into his eyes, and he constantly has to rub them, only making them red from irritation. Now they are out of sight from villages, he has removed his refugee cloak and wrapped it around his waist. The first three laces of his tunic are undone, yet it hardly offers any cooling relief and instead, only gives the hostile sun more skin to burn.

Padmé is suffering just as much. Her hair sticks to her forehead and her cheeks shine red from the heat. They both need to get out of the sun and quickly, before they burn to a crisp. "Master Qui-Gon sent me to follow you," she tells him simply. "He didn't want you to get into trouble."

Obi-Wan groans and rolls his eyes. "If he was so worried about me, he would have looked for me himself," he hisses bitterly. "Now he's found his new _protegé_."

"Don't blame Anakin," she tells him defensively, and he turns to face her, seeing the fierce frown on her face. "The poor thing is a slave. Your master is offering him the chance for freedom!" She's so passionate, even at such a young age. So idealistic in her beliefs. It's so very odd for a handmaiden.

"You're a handmaiden," he points out. "Isn't that the same thing as slavery?"

Padmé shakes her head ardently, obviously offended. "I am no slave!" She hisses the words passionately. "Being a royal handmaiden is a great honour. We are chosen by the Queen herself, and go through rigorous training in order to best serve Her Majesty. She is very kind to us, and we receive decent wages and luxurious living quarters, and even get holidays. What part of that sounds like slavery to you, Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

She is so feisty and passionate that Obi-Wan has to bite his tongue to hold in his laughter, for he knows it would do him no good to laugh. "I'm sorry to have offended you," he says as sincerely as he can muster. "I'm just confused as to why a girl your age would want to spend her whole life serving a Queen."

She blinks up at him seriously with her kind, brown eyes. "It was my choice," she declares. "Can the same be said for you, Obi-Wan? Why are you a Jedi?"

It's a question he's never been asked before and it stumps him. Leaves him speechless. Why is he a Jedi? He can't remember a time where he wasn't at the Temple. All he's known his whole life is the Jedi. He can't imagine being anything else - it simply has never occurred to him. "I don't know," he admits softly, refusing to meet her questioning gaze. "I was taken from my family when I was very young. Being a Jedi is all I know."

He feels fingers brushing his and looks down to see Padmé reaching for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze of encouragement. That action, that physical support, is something he never knew he needed but is glad to have. It feels good, to have someone listen to him and talk to him other than his master. It feels good to have a friend.

"You shouldn't be so harsh with Anakin," she tells him, kindly, a soft smile on her face. "The two of you have more in common than you might think."

Obi-Wan can't help but smirk. "For a handmaiden, you are awfully perceptive."

Padmé grins back, slyly. "You sure do like your labels, Obi-Wan," she teases. "You're a Jedi and I'm a Handmaiden and Anakin is a Slave. People are often more than what they seem, you know." With a toss of her hair, she lets go of his hand and quickens her pace, so that she is walking one step in front of him. He watches her with a bemused smile. Perhaps it is because he has spent all of his twenty-five years around Jedi , but he finds himself intrigued with this young, Naboo handmaiden. Her perspective on the world is refreshing and so very different from everything he has been brought up to believe. And there is this self-righteous air about her, as though she believes there is such a thing as a perfect world and a happy ending. It's almost endearing in it's naivety. If only she had seen the things he's heard about, the things his master has told him...

They walk for a little while longer, in silence, until they can see the ship up ahead. Obi-Wan can't help but hang his head in shame when he reaches his master. He acted immature and insolent and almost got himself - and Padmé - into a lot of trouble. The Jedi Master smiles kindly at his padawan, which only twists his stomach even further with guilt. Next to them, Anakin smiles up at both of them shyly, his face flushed and shiny from the heat and exertion.

"It is good to see you found him all in one piece, my dear," Qui-Gon says to Padmé. "I hope he didn't get into any trouble."

The two exchange a look and Obi-Wan can see amusement dancing in her dark brown eyes, but she shakes her head and beams at Qui-Gon. "No trouble at all, Master Qui-Gon," she lies smoothly and he suddenly feels a pang of gratitude towards her. "He was just sulking in a bar," she adds with a smirk, and that gratitude suddenly disappears. There's a look in her eyes that tells him she will never let him live this moment down and he groans internally.

"How is the ship coming along, Master?" Obi-Wan asks curiously, as an attempt to change the subject.

The older Jedi smiles widely and puts his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Anakin has done a marvellous job," he praises proudly, which causes the boy to blush timidly and cast his eyes to the ground. The act is so innocent that Obi-Wan suddenly feels terrible for thinking so badly of him. He is only a boy, after all, a boy who has known little happiness or love or praise from his master. It can't be wrong for him to receive such things from Qui-Gon. Perhaps, Padmé is right. Perhaps he and Anakin have more in common than he originally thought.

"There's still a few things I need to fix," the boy explains. "I can go back to my master and get more parts, and then I can work on it through the night, so it is ready by tomorrow."

Obi-Wan thinks it's a great idea; the sooner he leaves Tatooine, the better, but his master seems to have other plans. "Nonsense," he says, dismissing Anakin's offer with a wave of his hand. "It's nearly dark. I'll not have you work through the night. You'll exhaust yourself sick."

As much has he admires his master's compassion, Obi-Wan is immediately against this decision. Not only does is mean that they are stranded on Tatooine for another day, but they have no where to sleep, save for their damaged ship. And, if he's being honest, he wants to do neither of these things. All he wants is to get the Queen back to Coruscant, who has been hidden away in their ship with R2D2 for the entirety of the morning. Staying another day means that not only are they further behind schedule in bringing the Naboo Invasion before the Senate and taking action, but they risk the possibility of someone finding the Queen… Which, in a place crawling with bounty hunters, is a very _real_ possibility.

Apparently, the only other person who shares his view is Anakin. The boy frowns in confusion, before squinting up at Qui-Gon. "Where will you stay?" He asks.

Laughing, the older Jedi smiles kindly down at him. "Oh, don't worry about us, Anakin. We'll sleep in the ship."

Obi-Wan can't help but roll his eyes at his master. It ridiculous, sometimes, how little he thinks through his ideas, when he's supposed to be the Jedi Master.

Anakin shakes his head in insistence. "You can stay with me and my mother," he offers. "We live in the Slaves village, and it's not a very big place, but it will be more comfortable than that ship."

 _Someone will need to guard the Queen overnight, Master,_ Obi-Wan reminds him, not trusting her life in the hands of her R2 unit. _Or we look for repairs elsewhere._

 _Nonsense,_ Qui-Gon scolds him. _The boy has done a wonderful job. There is no finer mechanic on this desolate planet, I can assure you._

Groaning, Obi-Wan shuffles his feet, kicking away a few loose stones. "I will stay with the ship," he offers. He doesn't say it, but he would feel more comfortable sleeping on a vessel. At least it is far enough away from danger.

Qui-Gon nods in approval at his proclamation. "Very well, my young Padawan. Anakin, Padmé and I would be honoured to stay with you."

The boy grins widely and his blue eyes catch the afternoon light and he looks so _happy_ to have company that Obi-Wan wonders if he has ever had any friends. He watches, as Anakin packs away his tools and leads Padmé and Qui-Gon through the sand dunes, towards the Slave village and contemplates his Master's fascination with the prophesy. If he is, _in fact_ , the Chosen One, then it is clear that he is of great importance to the Jedi Order. But, Obi-Wan thinks to himself sadly, perhaps it is _Anakin_ who needs the Jedi more than the Jedi need him.

Perhaps, all he needs, is to feel like he belongs.

* * *

 _Slave Village, Mos Espa_

The Slave village is on the outskirts of Mos Espa, far enough away so that the common people can't see them, but close enough for the slaves to commute to their various workplaces. A deep sense of compassion engulfs over Padmé as she follows Anakin through the village. It's a very _miserable_ place, there's such a dull, depressing energy and she feels it immediately. It suffocates the community. Padmé can see it in the way the slaves slump their shoulders as they shuffle home from a long, exhausting day. It's in the way they talk, hushed whispers, never raising their voices for fear of being scolded by their masters. It's in the way the children huddle in the shadows of their parents as Padmé and Master Qui-Gon walk through the village. It's utterly heartbreaking.

Though not dressed grandly by means, it is obvious that they are not slaves. Their humble clothes are void of dirt and sweat of working in the sweltering heat, their skin is pale in contrast to the sun-baked tan of the slaves, and they walk with an air of confidence the poor citizens lack. Wide, frightened eyes watch them fearfully as they pass, Anakin strolling out in front of them. Padmé aches with empathy – she wants to help these poor people. They are half-starved and miserable and _scared_ , and a sudden, maternal urge overwhelms her young, naïve, fourteen-year-old soul. If only there was _something_ she could do to help.

Anakin leads them down a narrow alley and then out into a wide, open plain, where a small house sits at the very end, several yards from them. If a _house_ is what you could call it. Padmé's eyes widen in astonishment as she gazes upon the tiny, mud-brick hut. The entire house is the size of her bedchamber back home on Naboo, yet it contains two bedrooms, a kitchen and small living area and a 'fresher. How anyone could _live_ in such cramped quarters is beyond her, and she suddenly feels sick. Being from noble birth, and now a Queen, she is used to luxury, but _now_ , seeing where young Anakin lives, the thought of her bedroom makes her physically ill. How could she have been pampered and spoils so much a child, when there are children like Anakin, living in places like _this?_

To her amazement, there is not an ounce of shame in Anakin's face as he welcomes them into his home. In fact, Padmé doesn't think she's ever seen a smile so bright than the one currently on his face. His eyes are so wide and so blue and he's positively beaming as he ushers them inside and calls out to his mother. His joy is so contagious that she can't help but grin back at him, her heart tightening with affection.

"Mom!" Anakin calls loudly into the house. "We've got visitors."

Several moments later, a woman in her late thirties enters the room and her kind, homely face is wide with mild surprise as she sees the two strangers in her living room. She freezes in the doorway, her warm, brown eyes flicking back and forth between Padmé and Qui-Gon, before she looks to Anakin. "Ani? What is the meaning of this?"

He merely beams at her. "Mother, this is Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. And Padmé. I'm doing repairs on their ship and they need a place to rest for the night." He then turns back towards Padmé. "This is my mother, Shmi Skywalker."

Immediately, Padmé notices the absence of a father and feels another pang of pity for the poor boy. Not only is he a slave, but he has grown up without a father. She wonders what happened to him? Whether he left a long time ago, or was killed? Once again, Padmé realises how lucky she truly is. Sure, having to govern an entire planet at the age of fourteen is a heavy burden, but at least she still has both of her parents and her sister. _That much_ she is grateful for.

Taking a few steps forward, Shmi returns her gaze upon the visitors and smiles sweetly at them. "Of course. Any friend of Anakin's is welcome here."

It is the Jedi Master who returns the kindness first, approaching the woman and reaching for her hand. "Good lady, we are most grateful for your hospitality."

Shaking her head, Shmi simply smiles. "Not at all, Master Jedi. I'm afraid we do not have a lot of space here. You will have to sleep on the couch." She dips her head in an apology but Qui-Gon dismisses her with a wave of his hand.

"That is more than sufficient."

Padmé watches the exchange with mild interest, before she is jerked back to reality by Anakin talking hold of her hand. He is right beside her, bouncing on his toes, and at first she is taken aback by the gesture. As Queen, it is forbidden for anyone to touch her or take her hand without first asking her consent. But Anakin is as oblivious to her cover as Master Qui-Gon, and he's such a sweet boy, that Padme can't help but smile at him as he whispers excitedly in her ear, "Come, you can sleep in my room!"

Laughing at his enthusiasm, Padmé follows Anakin towards the back of the small little hut, to a room no bigger than her closet back on Naboo. It breaks her heart to see such a low standard of living. Her home planet is very prosperous, it does not know poverty or slavery or such other terrible, unfortunate things. And yet, despite all this, Padmé has never seen a more cheerful boy in all her life. Now he is _here_ , in the comfort of his own home, he is far more outgoing. It radiates off of him like light and Padmé feels so much calmer and cheerier in his presence than she would have thought possible.

The room is very basic, consisting of what could laughably be called a bed, it's so small Padmé wonders how poor Anakin will cope when he grows. He's got the potential to be tall and lanky, much like her sister's boyfriend, she can see it in the way he doesn't quite fit into his limbs. The rest of the room is bare; the floor made of dry, compacted mud, the same that makes up the walls and roof of the hut. A small, round window sits high above the bed, the only source of light and air in the room. Yet, it's rather cool, a welcoming change from the blistering desert heat outside.

"You can sleep on my bed, Padmé," Anakin tells her, gesturing to it with a sense of chivalry that makes her giggle.

Shaking her head, she immediately refuses. "But where will you sleep?" Queen she may be and used to all the comforts that lifestyle has to offer, but she couldn't possibly deprive this poor boy of his own bed – not when he has known so little comfort in all his life.

Anakin shrugs his shoulders casually, as though it isn't a problem and beams at her. They are the same height, but despite the hardships he's no doubt endured, there's this sense of childlike innocent about him that makes Padmé believe that he is younger than her, if only by a few years. "On the floor, of course."

"Anakin…" she protests, feeling inherently guilty. Her eyes drop to the floor. That can't _possibly_ be comfortable.

"You're a lady," he insists. "Mom would be mad at me if you didn't sleep on the bed." His blue eyes widen a little and Padmé smiles, understanding exactly what he means. Her own mother would do the same, in the roles were reversed.

"Well," she crosses her arms. "If you insist." She flashes him a frown, but Anakin only laughs heartily.

Suddenly, his blue eyes widen and he leaps off the bed, an almost maniacal grin on his face. "I've got to show you something!" He dives underneath his bed and Padmé is left to watch, surprised and intrigued, as he pulls out a large box. Opening it, he then beams up at Padmé with an expression that can only be regarded as pride. "Look!" he beckons her closer and his enthusiasm leaves her no choice but to step closer to the box and peer inside.

There, at the bottom, is what looks to be a half-finished droid. Not just any droid. A _protocol_ droid. Like the one back home on Naboo. Padmé has only seen a handful of these droids on her home planet; they are usually owned by Senators or planet dignitaries who travel to other star systems. Protocol droids are normally programmed to translate and speak hundreds of languages, and can perform useful, household tasks as well. Whilst Padmé has no need for such things, as she has her handmaidens, she knows that the Senate representative for Naboo, Senator Palpatine, owns a such droid. She wonders how Anakin stumbled across one... unless he stole it?

"That's a protocol droid," she says, eyeing him with intrigue. "Where did you get this?"

The boy grins and shakes his shaggy blonde head, laughing. "I made him!" he announces proudly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well... he's not finished. But he _will be!_ "

His proclamation makes Padmé blink in shock for a few minutes. _Made him?_ How does a twelve-year-old boy, a _slave,_ have the skill to build a fully operational protocol droid? Though she knows nothing of mechanics, she does know that droids are made by special engineers and take a whole team of people. It seems almost impossible for her.

"What? You don't believe me?" Anakin demands, his large blue eyes flashing with the challenge.

Padmé shakes her head immediately. "Oh no. I believe you," she assures him. "It's just... _How?_ "

Shrugging, he kneels beside the box and beings tinkering with a few of the bolts that connect the droid's arm to it's shoulder. "I like building and fixing things," was his simple reply, and it sounded so innocent, as though he was talking about something as simple as hammering a nail into a wall, instead of building a droid entirely from scratch. "I decided to build him for my mom. She could use the extra help around the house, you know? She gets real tired."

"That's rather... _sweet_ of you, Anakin," Padmé concedes with a smile. "And very impressive." He truly is the most interesting boy she's ever met. In a way, she almost envies him. Not because he's a slave - _that_ she feels the utmost pity for him. But, regardless of his terrible ordeal, he's still a child. He is seen as a child, and allowed to _be_ a child, at least to a certain extent. Padmé can't remember the last time she was allowed to be a child. Since she could talk, she had been whisked off to classes and camps and special political programs, grooming her for leadership. There was barely a time for her to be a child and do things like _this -_ what Anakin is doing - tinkering and fixing and experimenting with things.

"It's fun," he confesses, as though that somehow explains his extraordinary talent. There's a sense of humility to him, perhaps from his upbringing as a slave, but it intrigues Padmé endlessly. "What do you do for fun?"

The question makes her hesitate. Fun? It's been a long time since Padmé has done something _fun._ It almost makes her want to laugh. How silly would he think her, a fourteen year old girl who doesn't remember doing anything for fun? Besides, she can't give her cover away. Instead, she furrows her brows, trying to recall the last time she'd done something that wasn't related to ruling.

"Swimming," she answers after a while, giving a little curt nod of her head for reiteration. _Yes,_ she thinks to herself. Swimming is fun. Her and her sister Sola often went swimming when she went back home to her family's estate in the Lake Country.

Anakin tips his head to the side in confusion. "What's swimming?"

She laughs, thinking he's only joking, but when he merely frowns at her, she realises that he actually doesn't know what swimming is. Almost immediately, she wants to retreat into a hole in the ground. She feels _awful._ Of course he wouldn't know what swimming is. Anakin lives on Tatooine - there's no lakes or rivers or oceans on this desert planet. He would never have swum in his life.

"It's when you move through a lake, or an ocean or something like that. A big body of water. It's fun!"

"Where you come from... you have lakes?" he asks, eyeing her as though she's just told him she was a ghost. It's so innocent and hilarious at the same time that she can't help but giggle, though she covers her mouth with her hand - she _is_ a Queen after all, and Queen's do not _giggle._ He takes a seat on his bed and pats the spot beside him, an invitation to join him, and so she does.

"Yes, lots of them," she says, kindly, a smile on her face at the memory of Varykino - her family's estate. "We have lakes and rivers and oceans. It's very beautiful."

"All we have here is _sand,_ " he grumbles bitterly. "I _hate_ sand."

Padmé smiles sympathetically and reaches out, covering his hand with her own and giving his fingers a quick squeeze. "I'm sure you'll be able to see a lake someday, Anakin. If you have hope."

"Would I be able to visit you?" he asks suddenly, those expressive blue eyes lighting up completely at the idea. "You could teach me how to swim!"

Not having the heart to let him down, she only nods her head. "Of course. That would be lovely."

Anakin beams at her so brightly, she can't help but return his enthusiasm. Such happiness from one with such a horrific life. Padmé feels she and many people she knows could learn a lot from young Anakin Skywalker. It only makes her more determined to reach the Senate, and propose the end of slavery on Tatooine whilst she is there. Good people, like Anakin and his mother, deserve so much better than to be slaves to the Hutts.

"One day, I'm going to leave this place," he mutters quietly from beside her. The dark edge to his voice surprises her and she gazes at him, a little concerned. "I'm going to build my own ship and then I'm going to take my mother and we're going to fly out of here and never return."

His vow resonates deep within Padmé. She wants so desperately to help him achieve his goal, because he deserves it, but she also knows that such an act would be almost impossible to achieve. And, even if he _did_ manage to leave Tatooine, he would be an outlaw. There would be no place he could go but to somewhere beyond the Outer Rim, beyond the jurisdiction of the Galactic Republic.

Instead of responding, for she doesn't know what she could possibly say, Padmé simply squeezes his hands again and smiles, which he returns. The two sit there in silence for a little while, until Shmi Skywalker calls them to dinner.

She isn't sure, but Padmé feels like she may have just made a friend - a friend with someone close to her own age. She smiles.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Holy WOW! I didn't realise it's been so long since I updated this story. My apologies. That's rather despicable of me actually, considering I've had this chapter lying around for about a month or so. I wasn't happy with how it was going though, until I was finally hit with some inspiration. I really wanted to delve into Anakin and Padmé's friendship in this story, because it's pretty essential and it was so poorly done in the prequels.**_

 ** _Also, no, I will not be following along with the Padme/Obi-Wan romance that Belated Media suggested for this re-write. Their age differences make it creepy and wrong. But, I will be exploring their extraordinary friendship._**

 ** _Again, I'm sorry for keeping you waiting so long. Please review! :)_**


	6. A Reoccurring Dream

**Title:** Star Wars AU Episode I: Return of the Sith

 **Author:** shelivesfree (previous HermioneLunaPotter)

 **Setting:** Prequels AU - based on the fan theory by Belated Media

 **Genre:** Adventure

 **Disclaimer:** Obviously I don't own any of this. I just have a solid (and slightly obsessive) interest in Star Wars

* * *

 _ **Chapter 6: A Reoccurring Dream**_

 _Slave Village, Mos Espa_

"No - No! Please don't - _Mom!_ _NO!_ "

Padmé sits up abruptly at the sound of Anakin's screams. Horrified that someone is attacking them, that someone has discovered her whereabouts, she reaches for her blaster that she kept underneath her pillow, and quickly draws it, pointing it at the door in an immediate, defensive stance. Through the silver moonlight that spills in through the window, she relaxes once she realises there's no one in the room, and slowly lowers her weapon. Her eyes then fall upon the boy on the ground beside her. He's twitching and thrashing about in his sleep, sweat beading along his forehead and upper lip, eyes fluttering madly beneath his closed lips. Tears leak from his eyes, squeezed shut tightly as though he's trying to stop himself from seeing something horrific, all the while calling out for his mother.

The sight makes her heart clench in pity and she slides out of bed and crouches beside him. "Anakin..." she calls to him softly, trying to rouse him from his nightmare. She rests her hand on his shoulder and gently rocks him, but he's too consumed with his nightmare to even hear her. "Ani... please! Wake up!" she says again, bending over so her lips are at his ear, using the name his mother calls him in attempt to soothe him.

Suddenly, he is jerked awake, those blue eyes wide and terrified as he stares around at his surroundings. Chest heaving, he meets her gaze, blinks a few times and lets out a trembling sigh. "Mom. Is she...?" he asks in a small voice, almost pleading with her.

Padmé gives him a reassuring smile and strokes his damp hair. "She's fine, Ani. It was just a dream."

The young boy closes her eyes at her words, relief visibly washing over him and brings his hand up to his forehead. "Y-yeah... just a... just a d-dream..."

Standing up, Padmé heads into the 'fresher to retrieve a damp cloth, then returns and kneels back beside Anakin. Almost methodically, she dabs at his forehead, drying his perspiration and cooling him down. The boy's eyes fall closed at her actions and he exhales shakily. _The poor thing,_ she thinks to herself as she tends to him. It must have been an awful nightmare to have affected him like this. She lets him be for a moment and they remain silent, until Padme notices him shaking. He's _crying._

"Oh, Anakin..." she whispers sadly.

He brushes her aside, suddenly embarrassed about crying in front of her, and rolls onto his other side. His body curls into himself, and he wraps his arms around his limbs, sobbing quietly to himself. The sight of him so helpless tugs at Padmé's compassionate heartstrings. She wants to help him, hold him, tell him that everything is going to be okay, but she doesn't want to embarrass him further. Instead, she just sits by him, offering him silent support, and waits patiently for him to open up to her.

Then, very quietly, he mutters under his breath, "... they killed her..." He's only twelve, but he suddenly sounds a lot younger than his age, his voice is small and vulnerable.

"Who killed her?" Padmé asks softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder again. Anakin freezes at her touch, but doesn't pull away, so Padmé takes this as a good sign.

" _The Masters_ ," he spits out the words venomously. "It's always them."

She's more confused than ever, and queries, "Always?" When Anakin just nods his head, she bites her lip. "Ani... have you had this dream before?"

Again, he nods his head. Padmé doesn't know what to say. She can't imagine anything worse than being plagued by a dream about her own mother's death, so she can't blame the boy for being so upset. "It's just a dream," she tells him again, but it's obviously the wrong thing to say, because he growls and shuffles away from her.

" _I know._ "

The only thing Padmé can do is go and find his mother. Shmi is the best person for this situation, as Anakin is clearly too emotional and upset to open up to her about any of this. Rightly so. They barely know each other. As much as she wants to help, Padmé knows that it isn't her place.

She goes to find Shmi, only to run into Master Qui-Gon. The Jedi Master is sitting pensive at the small table in the kitchen, his eyes closed, his chin resting on his clasped hands. Once he senses her presence, his eyes snap open and he twists his head to look at her. Jedi confuse her. Their knowledge of the Force and their intuition make her a little nervous to be around them. She's heard of Jedi mind tricks before, and whilst she's confident Master Qui-Gon would never use one on her, there's something in the back of her mind that is paranoid at the thought.

The way he looks at her make her wonder if he already knows why she's out here. There's this sadness in his grey eyes that she can't quite place. "The boy had a nightmare."

Padmé frowns. "Yes," she says, suspiciously. "How did you know?

With a deep sigh, the Jedi Master turns in his chair and places his hands in his lap. "The Force speaks to me, child. I also know that you are not who you say you are."

It takes all of Padmé's training not to react to his remark. "I do not know what you mean, Master Jedi." Her voice is cool and composed, a facade for her rapidly beating heart that pounds anxiously in her chest. Her use of decoys is her highest level of security. No one can ever know.

He smiles kindly at her, like a father would to his daughter, and merely says, "Yes, I'm afraid you do, Your Majesty." She reaches for her blaster, when she remembers that it is back in Anakin's room, and then takes a step back, palms raised. "Relax, child. I will not reveal you. Not even to my Padawan."

"Does he not know?"

With another heavy sigh, the older Jedi just shakes his head. "Obi-Wan is young and impatient. He does not see things like I do. He has much still yet to learn."

Padmé nods her head respectively, and then goes to find Shmi. She rouses instantly once she hears about Anakin had a nightmare and hurries into his bedroom, falling to her knees beside her son. They embrace tightly, the boy nuzzling into his mother's neck as she softly strokes his hair and whispers soothing things to him in her soft, calm voice. Padmé watches the interaction fondly. Despite the hardships that they have both faced and the unfortunate circumstances surrounding both their lives, there's this aura of joy and love and happiness that radiates out of them. It's beautiful to behold.

Master Qui-Gon taps her lightly on the shoulder and beckons her to leave the pair alone, and so Padmé follows him. "I am going to contact my Padawan. I won't be long."

Padme chews on her lip as the Jedi Master strides out of the hut into the sweltering night with an elegant sweep of his robes.

* * *

 _Naboo cruiser_ , _Tatooine_

Even in the dead of night, this blasted planet still swelters with a relentless heat that puts Obi-Wan in a foul mood. He waits in the cockpit, legs up with his boots resting on the control panel, staring blankly at the ceiling. It's too hot to think, let alone sleep. He'd thought, by closing off the ship to keep out the humidity that it would have made the interior cooler, but alas, he was horribly wrong. A scowl forms on his face as he thinks about his Master and Padmé, seeking refuge with Anakin, and wonders if they are having as restless as night as he.

The Queen is in her quarters and hasn't made a sound the entire night. He wonders how she's coping in her thick, heavy royal garb, when _he_ is slowing expiring in his Jedi linen - having discarded his thick robe long ago. In other circumstances, he'd remove his tunic and boots, but doesn't want to be indecent around the Queen. Besides, if anything were to happen, he'd rather not waste time in redressing himself if unnecessary. So, he just has to deal with the uncomfortable heat. At least he's alert.

As he closes his eyes and tries, for the fourth time, to fall asleep, the comm signal on the control panel blinks with incessant blue beeps, jerking him awake once more. Grumbling irritably, he answers the call, and a small hologram of his Master rises up before him, shimmering blue in the darkness of the cockpit.

"Greetings, Padawan. I apologise if I woke you."

Obi-Wan laughs darkly. "I assure you, Master, I was not asleep. It's impossible to do so on this wretched planet."

The Jedi Master sighs, his expression grave. "Fear not, my young Padawan. We will not linger here longer than necessary. I feel a great disturbance in the Force. Something draws near. It unnerves me."

A sense of forboding overcomes Obi-Wan as he ponders his Master's words. He too has sensed a disturbance in the Force. "So have I, Master."

With his hands clasped in front of him, Qui-Gon lowers his voice and drops his face towards the ground. "I believe the Naboo invasion was the work of a Sith Lord."

"Master, the Sith have been destroyed," Obi-Wan reminds him.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not. The Sith have always existed, Padawan. As long as there is a Dark Side of the Force, there will be Sith. It is the nature of the Force. Hopefully the boy will be finished by morning, so we can return to Coruscant. I must discuss this matter with the Council."

The notion is unsettling to the young Padawan learner, but he says no more on the matter. His Master has always harboured these notions about the Sith, and yet none of the other Council Members agree with him, except Master Yoda. If the Sith have returned, they have yet to show themselves.

"The boy has had a Force dream," Qui-Gon informs him, changing the subject. "He has forseen his mother's death."

Obi-Wan narrows his eyes suspiciously. "How can you be sure it is a Force dream? The boy is young. Nightmares are common."

The older Jedi shakes his head and sighs. "Apparently, this particular dream has been reoccurring. You know how powerful the boy is already. It is undoubtedly a Force dream."

The way his Master speaks about the boy irritates Obi-Wan, so though he is a rare gift from the Force itself. Even if Anakin Skywalker _is_ the child from the prophecy, he doubts how a twelve-year-old boy with no knowledge of the Force is suppose to bring about 'balance'. The idolisation of the boy is absurd, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.

"How does his mother die?"

Qui-Gon shakes his head. "That, I do not know."

"Then how can we prevent it?"

The Jedi Master shakes his head again, a solemn look crossing his tired face. "We won't, my young apprentice. If the boy's mother dies, he will have nothing tying him to this place. No attachments. It's crucial for his Jedi training."

Obi-Wan can hardly believe the words coming out of his Master's mouth? Let the woman die? As a Jedi, a bringer of peace and justice, the very notion sets his nerves on edge. It goes against everything he's been taught. Saving the innocent, purging the darkness... it is what makes him proud to call himself Jedi. To know that the boy's mother will soon be killed, and yet do nothing to prevent it... "How can you say that Master?" he cries, slightly outraged. "We are Jedi. We cannot let her just die. That's... _inhumane!_ "

A wry smile pulls at the older Jedi's lips. "The Force works in mysterious ways, Padawan. What it wills always comes to pass, in one way or another. I see it as a blessing. The Force _wants_ me to take the boy, to train him. It is my destiny."

Trying not to roll his eyes, the apprentice says nothing further on the matter, even though his own opinion contradicts his Master's rather _pious_ view of the Force. Instead, he bids his Master goodnight, ends the communication and leans back further in the pilot's seat, trying to fall asleep for the fifth time that night.

* * *

 _The_ Scimitar, _Tattooine_ _System_

There was a powerful aura calling to him, drawing him closer, radiating strongly off the isolated, desert planet far on the outskirts of the Outer Rim. Maul could sense it. Something even _more_ powerful than his own Master. Was this the young Naboo Queen? Surely, it couldn't be. From what he'd heard, the girl was only a child still, barely fourteen. And by no means a Force user such as himself.

So, then, who was it? One of her Jedi escorts, perhaps? Maybe the small, green one... Yoda, he was called? Apparently, the Jedi Master from Dagobah was the only being in the entire galaxy that his Master feared. A powerful Force user, he was fabled to be. No match for a Sith apprentice.

Still, Maul had the element of surprise. All he needed was the Queen... alive. He could steal her away from right beneath the Jedi's noses, then flee back to Mustafar, where he would be praised by his Master. _Yes_ , he thought to himself gleefully. _He may even let me keep her as a pet._

With a terrible grin, he activated his hyperdrive, the _Scimitar_ soaring rapidly towards his destination.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hello, dear readers. No amount of apologies could really do this terribly long wait between updates justice. But, I am sorry. As I've previously stated, I'm doings things a little differently to Belated Media, but I'm following their idea loosely. Please read and review! :) xx**_


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